Revan's Requiem
by InferiorBeing
Summary: DSRCarth The Jedi Council had failed to tamper with Revan’s memories. As thier prisoner, the Sith Lord Revan now works to regain his empire, despite Jedi hindrances and a newfound appreciation for Republic pilots.
1. The Beginning of the End

**Title** Revan's Requiem  
**Author** InferiorBeing  
**Pairing(s)** future DSMRevan/Carth, even more future GSFExile/Canderous  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warnings** homosexuality/heterosexuality, Dark Side Revan, Gray Side Exile, somewhat graphic sci-fi violence  
**Disclaimer:** One would think that the fact that this story is being put on a fanfiction internet site would imply that I don't own it...  
**Misc. AN: **I want to just state now that I love all the characters from both KOTOR games. I don't (and therefore won't in this story) bastardize any of them (just in case anyone was worried). I like the personalities they were endowed with, and I'm going to try and keep them as close to cannon as I can.  
**Summary:** A "What-if?" scenario. What if the Jedi Council had failed to tamper with Revan's memories? What if his General had, in fact, been Mandalorian by birth herself? The game… but changed a bit: A Sith Lord Revan works to regain his empire, despite Jedi hindrances, and a newfound appreciation for Republic pilots.  
**Please note**: 'Revan's Requiem' is the first book of three in the "Symphonic Trio". It covers the events in the first Knights of the Old Republic game. As such you will note that the conversations follow those of the game as closely as I could follow them while still staying true to my plot changes. Also, they borrow from both the female and male Revan conversations, as my Revan is a homosexual. The second book, 'Nocturn of Exile', will follow the events of Knights of the Old Republic: The Sith Lords. The third book, 'Canticle of War', will cover what happens after the end of KOTOR:TSL (I'll be making it up at that point).

**Revan's Requiem**

_Prologue: The Beginning of the End _

His eyes were a blood red as he glared at the metallic monstrosity on his wrist. A snarl escaped his lips – a Force inhibitor. In a bracelet.

And he loathed jewelry.

At least it was of simplistic design. It wasn't jeweled, or ornate… yet, it still existed. It stood between him and… oh, so many things.

Revenge.

Freedom.

He could no longer tell which he desired more, with most of his Force powers hidden beneath the control of this flimsy device. Yet he needed two hands free to remove it, which was something he did not have. What was worse was that he knew the Jedi reveled in this fact.

The Dark Lord Revan brought so low.

Perhaps revenge and freedom were the same, and he had just never realized.

With a sigh, he replaced his hand into the folds of his robes. This was one problem he would not solve this night. Though he _would_ solve it soon. Then the Jedi, and his former apprentice, would pay.

The soft mull of conversation had long since faded in the small cantina of the Endar Spire. It must be the second shift already. Most of the normal crew and the Jedi accompanying Bastila would be asleep by now.

The Dark Side blessed him with small favors it seemed. He was in no mood for one of _them_ to be following him around. Always with their condescending attitude or, worse, trying to make him 'realize' that the Dark Side would destroy him.

As if he didn't already know that.

One did not become a Sith Lord by being oblivious. The Dark Side was a dangerous playmate – he knew this. But he also knew how far one could push the Dark Side before it began to recoil. And he would never push beyond that limit.

Malak would. And that was why he was allowed even some small amount of freedom where the Jedi were concerned.

His lips curled into a sneer. Apparently destroying his mind was less important than killing his rampaging former apprentice.

* * *

There was only one other occupant of the cantina, Carth noted, as he entered the room. It was one more than he had expected. And it was one of the Jedi – not one of the normal crew. 

That was odd. None of the Jedi he'd ever interacted with drank.

Not that he'd interacted with _many_ Jedi, but… well, the point was still valid.

As he crossed the room, he could feel the eyes of the Jedi arch up to look at him. Sometimes he wondered how Jedi could develop such weighted stares, and how the stare had the same power even when the Jedi's eyes were hidden.

He'd seen this Jedi before, and yet he knew the least about him. Not that he knew much about any Jedi – but at least he'd seen what the other Jedi looked like.

This Jedi wore the full Jedi ensemble ALL the time. No matter what was going on. And he wore the hood of his outermost robes up ALL the time as well. He never spoke. Carth only knew that the Jedi _was_ a he because his name had been listed on the crew roster as Mars Almasy.

So, of course Carth had no idea why it suddenly seemed like an incredibly good idea to go have a drink with the guy.

* * *

_Well now_, Revan thought. _Perhaps the Republic isn't as much of a waste as I thought. _

And, thankfully, the Force inhibitor had not destroyed his persuasion abilities. It had hindered them, certainly, but he'd always been skilled in subtly – or not so subtly – influencing the minds of others. Perhaps he couldn't proceed with the same speed he was used to… but he could still get to the same place. It just took a bit more time. Besides, he could use a bit of a distraction after all he'd gone through since Malak's betrayal.

And, of course, what the Jedi didn't know, they didn't need to find out.

Carth flashed the other man a friendly smile as he sat down next to him. "Didn't know Jedi drank."

"Oh, we do. We just don't like to tell anyone. It tends to ruin our reputation."

The voice was not what Carth had expected. Slightly tinged with humor, the words oozed from underneath the hood like a trickle of blood from a wound. Carth had never been a very poetic man, but that was the only way to describe the almost sinful voice.

Still, he seemed more human than any other Jedi Carth had ever met. After all, who ever heard of a Jedi cracking jokes? Especially at the expense of the Order.

* * *

Bastila wearily raised a hand to her temples as she continued down the corridor. It had been a long time since she'd been this exhausted. And on top of that, she'd lost Revan. He must have slipped out during the change of shift. Which meant he'd been on his own for half a shift.

What could Revan do with all that time to himself? The Council had _specifically_ ordered them – her! – not to let him out of their sight for a minute, much less half a shift!

Revan was unpredictable. He'd proven that much when, despite the efforts of the entire Jedi Council, his mind had resisted their attempts to take away his memories. He could, truly, be planning _anything_. If not for taking away his lightsaber, if not for the Force inhibitor, he wouldn't even listen to the Jedi, much less _help_ them – no matter how compatible the idea of destroying Malak was for both Revan and the Jedi. If he had figured out how to get rid of that Force inhibitor he could have easily acquired a lightsaber and–

-decided to get a drink?

Bastila stopped short outside the ship's cantina. She was sure Revan sensed her outside the window, but he did nothing. Perhaps he was truly drunk? There were certainly enough bottles scattered around him on the bar to suggest that he could be. But this was _Revan_. He wouldn't allow himself to get drunk. So did that mean that his companion had drunk most of the liquor?

But… he was sitting with Carth Onasi!

Bastila's eyes narrowed. Now why would Revan approach Commander Onasi? Perhaps he _was_ plotting something. She'd never seen Carth chatting and laughing like that. It just didn't seem like the Commander she'd read about and then worked with for three weeks. He'd never let loose like that around her.

Revan was _definitely_ up to something. The Force inhibitor was obviously not hindering his powers as much as they had thought it was.

Still…

Bastila pressed closer to the edge of the doorway and watched the two men inside the room. She would step in when necessary.

* * *

Mars's laughter was as sinful as his voice, yet strangely infectious. Carth didn't think he'd laughed this way in a long time. Then again, he hadn't been this drunk in a very long time.

Mars stifled his laughter as he concentrated enough to levitate another bottle towards them. "Split it with you," he offered, already filling his own glass.

"If I have any more, you'll have an unconscious soldier on your hands," Carth responded.

Mars shrugged and began to drink.

Carth watched for a moment, thinking. "Never thought a Jedi could out-drink a soldier of the Republic."

Mars paused, taking the glass away from his face – which was _still_ covered by the hood. "Well, I'm not most Jedi." The glass was empty as he set it down lightly.

"Mind if I _see_ who isn't 'most Jedi'?" Carth asked.

Mars paused again, before he shrugged. "If you want."

The first thing Carth noticed as the hood was removed was that Mars didn't _look_ like most Jedi. His skin was too pale to be healthy – an almost sickly white. His hair was a deep purple, almost black, which was pulled into a loose ponytail and disappeared underneath Mars' robes, hiding its true length. But Mars' most striking feature was his eyes. They were a deep wine red with a starkly black pupil and glittered in amusement as his lips curved into a sinful smirk.

"Not what you were expecting, I take it?"

"Not at all."

The door to the cantina slid open and both men looked up as Bastila entered the room. "So this is where you've been, Mars."

Something flickered beside him, and Carth turned to see Mars' teeth bared into a snarl before they were again hidden beneath the hood.

"I assume you needed me for something?" The question was drawled and insulting, as if Bastila was a little child who couldn't tie her own bootlaces.

"Yes," Bastila answered before turning to Carth, as if she was used to Mars speaking to her in that manner. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Carth, but it is urgent."

As Mars followed Bastila out of the room, Carth turned back to the unfinished bottle. Maybe he _had_ drunk too much. Jedi wouldn't act like that – would they?

* * *

Bastila struggled to keep her voice low and calm as they walked back towards the Jedi quarters. "I don't know what you thought you were doing, Revan, but it will stop _now_."

"Revan?" the lilting voice taunted. "Don't you mean _Mars_?"

"That doesn't matter at the moment. I want your word that-"

"I'll sit quiet? I'll stay out of trouble? I'll kill my former apprentice and then come meekly back to the Jedi Temple so you can continue experimenting with my mind? Don't delude yourself."

"That _wasn't_ what I was going to say!" Bastila sputtered. But it _had_ been what she had been thinking. Yes, the Force inhibitor wasn't set at a nearly strong enough setting for Revan's level of ability. "I was going to say that I want your word that you won't go off on your own again until we find Malak."

"You won't get it," Revan sneered. "Besides, what worth is the word of a Sith Lord?"

Bastila sighed as they reached Revan's room, centered in the cluster of rooms that had been assigned to the Jedi. "Very well," she said as she palmed open the door, "and stop fiddling with the Force inhibitor."

"I haven't been fiddling with it!" Revan hissed. "I already tried to take it off. And failed, as you well know."

"You lie very well, Sith Lord."

The wrist around which the Force inhibitor was attached was shoved in front of her face, as if it were unshakable proof. Smiling sweetly, Bastila thumbed the side.

Revan hissed in pain and cradled the wrist to his chest. Bastila fought off a twinge of sympathy, knowing that it must be agony for him to have the Force completely ripped away. She pushed him into his room and locked the door behind him.

The walls muffled his screams.

* * *

When the pain finally dulled to a bearable ache, Revan picked himself up from the floor. The room, the re-circulated air, even his body, felt empty without the Force. Slowly, he lay back on the small bunk and glared at the door.

"That was very Sithly of you," he murmured, exhausted, at the Jedi whom he knew no longer stood there. "I won't underestimate you again."

The sleep and the dreams which overtook him were as empty as he felt.

The first jar of the ship woke Bastila, even before the alarms began to ring with blaring efficiency. As she moved toward the door, the ship shuddered again. The ship was under attack.

But even more importantly, the Sith had found them.

Though she was no master yet, her senses were developed enough to allow her to feel the evil that had crept towards them while she slept. There was no mistaking a Sith warship, especially not when one was Force sensitive.

The alarms had done their job; not one person was left asleep on the Endar Spire. But it would not be enough, Bastila quickly realized. They had been caught too unaware, too unprepared for an attack. The Sith would be sending boarding parties soon to seize control of the ship.

All this she realized with calm clarity. She knew what had to be done. She had to get off the ship and escape to the nearest planet.

Then, of course, she remembered Revan. Malak could not find out that his former master lived. Not yet, at least. She had to get Revan off the ship.

* * *

Revan paced his small quarters, frustration and anger building within him. While he welcomed such emotions, he cursed that he had no outlet for them.

None. The Force inhibitor was doing its job well.

And without the Dark Side, his options were pitifully limited. The Jedi were not complete fools; they had left him with no weapons, and had even denied him sharp edged tools. The door was operated completely from the outside, so he could not even try to coax the door open by sabotaging the lock. Apparently they remembered some of the skills he had acquired during the Mandalorian Wars.

He shot the door a grim look as the alarms increased in frequency. They had already progressed through the different sirens from 'attack warning' to 'fleet ambush'. The only alarm they had left to run was the one signaling complete evacuation. But he knew that they'd be rounding soldiers to the escape pods whether or not they played it.

The Sith must have found them, and – if there was one thing he would _not_ allow – he would not allow some snot-nosed Sith apprentice to drag him before Malak while he was wearing the Force inhibitor.

His grim look settled into a glare, and he faced the door with renewed vigor. He had learned more than just how to pick computerized locks during the Mandalorian Wars. The Mandalorians themselves had taught him that sometimes it was best to simply use strength instead of cunning.

* * *

Revan's door smashed open as Bastila neared it, spilling the Dark Lord onto the floor as it fell.

"What do you think you're doing?"

The Sith Lord slowly got to his feet. "Making sure you didn't decide to leave me to be captured by the Sith."

"I would have opened the door," Bastila chided.

The Sith shrugged, looking down at the shattered remains of the door. "That is no longer a problem."

"But – " The alarms intensified again in volume and Revan tensed as they both recognized the change. The Republic code for 'evacuate' sounded. "Fine. We have to get to the escape pods _now_."

As always happened when she gave him an order, Revan's shoulders squared and his posture stiffened. But his words were not the haughty rebuke she had grown accustomed to receiving. "Take the Force inhibitor off and let me end this."

"What?!"

"You wanted me to kill Malak, and Malak _must_ be here for the Sith to have managed such a successful ambush – one even _you_ did not sense until it was too late. You brought me all the way out here from Coruscant so that I could fight Malak- give me my lightsaber, give me the Force, and let me go do that."

"That is not how we were told to conduct that battle and you know it, Revan."

"Situations change during war, Bastila! You cannot always follow plans sent by a leader who is not on the battlefield at that exact moment! If my General in the Mandalorian war had done that, I would have lost. Now is one of those times when we must _adapt_. Let me go kill Malak; worry about your Jedi plan later!"

"Until you are no longer a Jedi prisoner, Revan, you will follow the orders of the Jedi Council. We will get to the escape pods and regroup away from the Sith fleet." Bastila's words were as fiery as Revan's, and he drew back for a scathing reply as more explosions rocked the ship.

"Mars! Bastila!"

Revan's words died on his lips as Carth rounded the corridor. "The Sith are sending boarding parties of Dark Jedi by the dozens. We have to evacuate."

Bastila nodded meaningfully at the Sith Lord opposite her. As usual, he did nothing to reveal that he'd even been looking in her direction. "Come _on_, Mars." When he didn't respond, she grabbed his arm, and dragged him along as she and Carth made their way to the escape pods."

In hindsight, Bastila would berate herself that she should have suspected he would try something. He was far too docile as they made their way through the ship, even matching her stride! When the ship shuddered under what must have been another blast, or the arrival of another enemy boarding party, he stood firm, allowing her to steady herself.

He caught her completely off guard when he shoved her into the escape pod, and it was only her Jedi instincts which moved her hand to block his attempt to grab her lightsaber. His snarl was barely audible over the din from the sounds of the battle, as he stepped back and viciously slammed his palm over the escape pod controls. His smirk was triumphant as the hatch closed and Bastila was sent hurling towards the surface of the nearest planet.

She realized with a sinking feeling completely unrelated to the gravity of the nearby planet why he _should_ feel triumphant. She had been ditched – well and truly ditched. And his plan had been two-fold, as well. Had he managed to take her lightsaber… well, she didn't even want to think about what Darth Revan would do if he had a lightsaber – the first of which could very well be destroying the Force inhibitor! And, although she had managed to successfully block him from getting her lightsaber, it was enough of a distraction for him to activate her escape pod and get out of it.

She could only hope that one of the other Jedi had caught up to them by the escape pods so Revan wouldn't be able to get away. But she knew it was a vain hope.

* * *

"Quick! Get into the other escape pod. I'll run a scan of the ship to see if there are any surviving crew members," Carth called from a computer terminal. 

For a moment Revan debated reprogramming the escape pod so he could get to Malak, but dismissed the notion. He was still weaponless and without the Force.

But he wouldn't be soon.

He settled down into the escape pod and began to plot as it hurtled towards the surface of the planet. The readings on the escape pod told him the expected destination planet was called Taris. He didn't truly care what planet it was – any one with reasonable technology would suffice. Somewhere on the planet there would be someone with the tools and the knowledge to get rid of his bracelet problem. And once he had the Dark Side again as his ally, Darth Malak – and indeed all who had turned on him – would suffer his wrath.

Darth Revan braced for the inevitable impact upon the surface of Taris with an insane fire in his eyes and beatific smile upon his lips.

_to be continued_

* * *

**status: beta'd by Hell's Bell**


	2. Taris

_Chapter One: Taris_

Revan braced for the 'thud' of landing, but he did not expect more falling after the initial crunch. His escape pod jolted and fell twice before stopping.

"Layered city," Revan muttered, "either that, or weak, cavernous terrain."

The control panel in the pod chirped that they had landed successfully on Taris, just as the door was wrenched open from the outside. Revan took in cheap battle armor and a heavily modified blaster as he launched himself forward. One hand grabbed the other man's wrist, fingers digging sharply into the nerves. The blaster clattered to the floor of the pod, as Revan's other arm smashed his head back against the reinforced steal. Revan left the body dangling over the escape pod's entrance and stepped out into a brawl.

Light came, not from above but from glaring ground lights. The shoddy illumination cast shadows on the bloody free-for-all that had erupted around the five escape pods.

It looked like a gang, Revan mused, as a shout went up near him. Another pod had been forced open. Revan pressed back into the shadows as others came running.

Definitely a gang Revan decided. They all wore the same cheap armor, held the same run of – probably illegal – weaponry.

Hoarse cries went up from the group surrounding the escape pod. "We've found a Republic officer!" One of the group ran off – presumably to get whoever was in charge.

Revan frowned. Was that Carth's pod? Why wasn't he fighting them off? He knew Carth favored double blasters; surely he wasn't so weak as to let himself be captured by a street gang.

The messenger was returning now with another man. This new arrival wore more expensive armor, Revan noticed. He was obviously the head of this stagnant beast. Edging forward, Revan caught part of the conversation.

"-woman. Looks like she wasn't strapped in properly – had a rough re-entry… unconscious-"

Revan grinned. He knew of only one woman who could fit that description. The grin stilled to a frown as he crept toward the group."

"-worth a fortune," the leader was saying.

_If it _is_ Bastila, where is her lightsaber?_ Revan wondered. They just thought her an officer, so the gang members couldn't have seen it yet-

"Hey you! You came from the other pod!"

Revan uncoiled from the shadows as he was swarmed from behind. More grunts. He rolled as one of them fired, using the pod for as much cover as possible.

* * *

Brejik turned as commotion broke out behind him. Another survivor, perhaps. He allowed himself a smug smile as his men swarmed the escape pod; the other survivor was as good as his. He frowned as a strangled scream exploded from behind the pod. What were they doing? He wanted survivors alive! Cursing softly, he turned back to those who were maneuvering the woman out of her pod. Two slaves would have brought a lot more than one – whoever messed up and killed the other survivor would _understand_ that when he was through with them. But the woman was _quite_ pretty, even if there was a rather nasty gash on her forehead. Once that was seen too, she'd fetch more than just a few credits. 

A Vulkar came running up to him, panting and out of breath. "Brejik, there's a problem!"

"What?" Brejik drawled as the Vulkars carried the officer to where the Vulkar medics were waiting. Yes, cleaned up she would be worth _something_ all right.

"There's another survivor! And he's taken out Kandon's section!"

"What?!"

The Vulkar pointed back at the other pod. Brejik followed where he was pointing with his eyes and frowned. A man stood, leaning against he pod. At his feat, Brejik could see Vulkar corpses.

"And _why_ haven't you subdued him yet?" Brejik hissed. A man like that was too dangerous to attempt to sell. They should have just killed him when that became apparent.

"He says he's not Republic," the Vulkar reported, "and he says he wants to talk with you."

Brejik sneered at the figure. "I'm too busy to talk to him right now. If he wants my attention, he'll help with bringing the salvage back to the base. Go tell him that."

He ignored the Vulkar's gibbering as he headed back to the base.

* * *

Revan sent the Vulkar away with a glare. So this Brejik wanted to deal with him later? Foolish. He sunk into the shadows as he watched the Vulkar leader leave. _Well Brejik, _he thought with a smirk_, Let's see how long you evade me._

* * *

Carth checked the readings from the escape pod as quickly as he dared before opening the hatch. It was evening for this section of the planet-wide city; the fact that he could see the sky showed that he'd landed in the uppercity of Taris. 

He ducked into an ally as he caught sight of bronze-tinted armor in the light of the street lamps. Sith. Probably coming to look for whoever came down with the escape pods.

Carth continued deeper into the ally. He hadn't seen anyone around when he'd left the pod, but it was better to err on the side of caution if there were Sith about.

* * *

The two Vulkar guards dropped to the floor as silently as two bodies could. Revan glared down at them in scorn as he emerged from the shadowed hallway. They hadn't even seen him coming. Pathetic. 

Stepping directly into the light of sight of the hidden camera, Revan looked up at it meaningfully. _I know you saw that, Brejik,_ the look said. _Now what will you do?_

The look on the door clicked open in response. Revan entered to see the Vulkar captain mostly unshaken by the display, yet his eyes betrayed his fear.

"You are the one from the Republic escape pods. The one who says that he is not with the Republic."

It was not a question, but it was no statement either. It wasn't bad for a gang leader, Revan mused, as he leveled Brejik with a bored look.

"You could have made it harder to follow you."

"If you're not Republic, you must be Sith."

Revan waved off the accusation. "I'm not in the habit of following Malak's orders." The guile-less smile did not fool Brejik, but Revan hadn't truly intended for it to do so. "I'm just a prisoner wrongfully imprisoned by the Republic. A shame really."

"Never let it be said that the Black Vulkars don't help those in need." Brejik's eyes had taken on the familiar sheen of greed which Revan had often seen in corrupt leaders. "Especially when we both stand much to gain."

"I only require one thing, then you'll never see me again." Revan's tone was musing, but his eyes shown in warning.

Brejik's smile was reptilian in reply. "Of course. Sit down, please. I'm sure we can work something out."

Revan shook his heat at the offered chair. He preferred to stand. "I find myself with a need to tinker with Coruscant Technology. Do you have the equipment required, or must I search elsewhere?"

"We should have what you need. We pride ourselves on having the most advanced equipment available on Taris."

Revan nodded.

"Now, may I speak to you about swoop racing?" Brejik's smile was feral.

Again, Revan nodded. He'd never raced a swoop bike in his life, but it couldn't be that different from the plethora of war droids he'd piloted.

* * *

As a Mandalorian, Canderous Ordo had never been really interested in swoop racing. Once one had piloted a Basilisk in the heat of battle, everything else couldn't hope to compare. But even so, Canderous Ordo would not miss this particular swoop race. This was to be the culmination of the swoop gang war that had been stewing in the Taris undercity for longer than Canderous had been on Taris. It was rather archaic of them, in his mind, to organize this. Each gang placed their faith in one pilot and that one pilot who won would bring victory to his gang; it was like the ancient lore of old when armies would send only their best warrior to fight. Unlike the ancient lore, this truly wouldn't solve anything. This was just a sugar-coated production to reassure the terrified locals whose livelihoods relied on the stability of the swoop gangs. 

Someone _would_ win, but that wouldn't matter. Either the Beks or the Vulkars, whoever lost, would have a problem and they would not solve it peacefully. _That_ was what Canderous was waiting for. It was his job, after all, to make sure the gangs didn't get too rambunctious.

His grin was dark as he watched the first racer set up for his first heat. If that meant wading into the thick of battle and utterly demolishing anyone stupid enough to fight back, so be it.

Canderous hoped there were a _lot_ of stupid people here today.

* * *

Bastila's first conscious thought was 'neural restrictor'. It was not a particularly comforting thought, but it was an empowering one. She could beat neural restrictors – had been _trained_ to resist them. 

Sensory input came to her in small rivulets, coming smoother and more rapidly as she calmed and focused on interfering with the restrictor. She was somewhere with people, a lot of people. People cheering, screaming, avidly paying attention to something. She saw through lidded eyes that she was in a cage, surrounded by guards. She knew it would be no problem once she had planned out her next move.

Memories came next. She remembered crashing into Taris, the jolt as the ground gave way beneath her pod. Frantically diving after her 'saber as it was torn loose from her hand. Another jolt as the pod cashed down again. The searing pain in her forehead as her body crashed upward from the pod's movement.

The plan came last, structurally simple but lacking in the depth of detail it would require. She had to get out of here, and then she had to find Revan and make sure he-

"Mars Almasy!"

Training kept her body listless, even as her attention started at the announcer's loud words.

"-won by Mars Almasy, representing the Black Vulkars!"

Bastila felt him before she saw him out of the corner of her half-lidded eyes. Revan strolled casually up to the man who stood before her cage.

"And in only one heat, Mars!" The man seemed overly friendly to Revan, and the Force shifted warily around Bastila in warning. "Gadon and his Beks will be furious!"

"I don't care." Revan's reply was frosty.

"Oh, I know, but surely I can reward you." The man feared Revan, Bastila realized. Winning whatever Revan had won, in whatever way he'd won it, had frightened the other man. "How about the woman? You won her for us – surely she would be worth-"

"I have no need for Jedi slaves, Brejik," Revan replied darkly. Ignoring the other man's sputtering, which had begun at the world 'Jedi', Revan leaned closer to the bars of the cage, his voice low so only the occupant could hear. "Besides, if I had to pick up a Republic slave, I'd much rather have that Republic pilot warm my bed. He's found his way here, you know – just arrived in fact. If you make enough of a racket before you pass out, he might be able to get to you."

* * *

There was not much that would make Canderous Ordo ignore a fight, but he chose to ignore the brewing brawl in favor of watching the strange swoop pilot walk – no 'ooze' was more accurate – into the shadows of the undercity. It quickly degraded to blasters and vibroblades, even the Republic officer the Vulkars had offered up as their portion of the prize for the race was fighting – somehow freed from the cage. Yet Canderous remained where he was, only half-watching the fight. 

That pilot had been… crazy. He flew the swoop bike like it was a war droid and half the former strength of the Mandalorian army was after him. He flew maneuvers that the bike technically shouldn't have been able to do, yet somehow it hadn't been a problem for this Mars Almasy.

But perhaps Almasy was just skilled enough, just crazy enough, to prove useful to Canderous. Perhaps this Almasy pilot could outwit the Sith in their own base.

Bastila's next sight was of the overly sterile walls that could only belong to a medical facility.

"Ah, she's coming around, Carth."

Carth's name triggered a chain of memories which overwhelmed her. The Endar Spire. The Vulkars.

Revan's face as he jeered at her, telling Brezik that a Jedi was useless to him and he'd rather have the Republic pilot warm his bed instead.

She sat up with a gasp and instantly regretted it. Her vision swam as her balance tilted, before she was grasped by two hands and held upright.

"Whoa, Bastila, take it easy. You shouldn't be moving so fast."

Carth. Her anchor. He could help.

"Carth, where's Mars? Did you see him?"

"What?"

"At the swoop race. Did you see Mars?"

"No I-"

"He has to be found!"

"Bastila, calm down! He's a Jedi; I'm sure he's alright."

Oh yes, of course Mars – Revan – was alright! He was probably having the time of his life – especially if he found a way to get the force inhibitor off!

The Dark Lord Revan running around Taris unchecked. Bastila shivered, but not from cold. "I need you to tell me exactly what's happened since I was captured." Her voice was surprisingly calm, even to her. They did not have time for shock or fear. They had to act fast before Revan disappeared from the planet completely.

* * *

Revan hissed as the bracelet sparkled on his wrist and burned against the thin strip of skin underneath. 

"Watch what you're doing, bug-face!" he swore at the Vulcar tech.

The alien gibbered about make of tools and technology not on Taris. But when it said it had to take things slowly or else run the risk of burning the skin with a permanent scar, Revan had heard enough.

The intricate, state-of-the-art hydrospanner was kicked from the alien's hand, and the alien himself was thrown to the floor, faster than the time he would have needed to scream for help.

Revan brought his boot to the alien's neck and smiled grimly as it easily crunched through the delicate bone underneath. "Useless," he snarled at the corpse, before sweeping from the room.

* * *

Carth winced as he nursed his drink of Tarisian ale. This stuff was just awful, but if he was going to sniff out anything about the swoop champion, he would need to be here, and he would need a drink in order to blend in. He just had to sit in the back of the cantina and watch. Sooner or later, _somebody_ who didn't belong would show up with a lead. It always happened. 

And right on cue, a disheveled Twi'lek stumbled into the cantina – obviously worse for wear. He stumbled up to another man, sitting comfortably at the bar. The Twi'lek's voice was still shaky as Carth edged close enough to hear what the Twi'lek was saying.

The man the alien was talking to seemed annoyed at the Twi'lek's stuttered words. "And did you find him or not?"

"He said he'd come if he wanted to, Canderous."

The man, Canderous apparently, threw back his head and laughed, which seemed only to frighten the Twi'lek even more. "Get out of here; you'd better hope he shows."

Carth settled back at the bar, where he could see the entrance of the cantina and hopefully spot Mars, if he was the man they had been talking about.

* * *

He needn't have worried. Mars was no longer trying to hide his unmistakable features, and – when he entered the cantina – he sought out Carth the second their eyes locked. 

"I'm glad to see you survived, Carth." Mars lounged against the bar with a practiced ease. "Have you figured out what's good around here yet?"

"If you're going for taste – don't bother. But if you want something that will knock you out after a few hours, try the Taresian Ale," a gruff voice cut in before Carth could speak.

Carth looked up to see the man that the Twi'lek had been talking to before. So he _had_ been looking for Mars.

"You must be Canderous Ordo," Mars purred and Carth reeled at the strangely sinister tone. This Jedi was _so_ very strange.

"I am. And you're the winner of that big swoop race. Impressive flying – especially since I _know_ you're not a Vulcar."

"You'd be surprised how persuasive I can be." If Mars had been a dog, his teeth would have been bared in a warning snarl.

"I doubt it. I have a good imagination. Which is why I have a work proposition for you."

Mars snagged Carth's half-full glass of Tarisian ale and downed it in one gulp. "I'm listening."

Canderous' eyes darted to Carth, as if just realizing that Mars was more than allowing him to listen, unabashedly, to the conversation.

"I work for Davik and the Exchange," Canderous' concentration was back on Mars, "but recently Davik hasn't been paying his cuts."

"You want him dead?" Mars cut in boredly.

Carth kept his face neutral at Mars' calm countenance. Mars was a good actor – better than any Jedi Carth had ever seen. So this was what happened in war, even Jedi learned new tricks.

"I _want_ off this planet. Getting rid of Davik would just be part of the process."

"So you have a ship?" Mars' ears had pricked up at the mention of getting off the planet.

"No. _Davik_ has the ship."

"Even better."

"But with the Sit barricade, no one is going anywhere without the Sith launch codes."

"And you want me to go get them," Mars drawled.

Canderous nodded.

"Sneaking into the Sith Base won't be a quiet thing. Once it gets out, the Sith will be after our blood," Carth murmured a warning. Jedi or no, Mars _had_ to see how risky this was, didn't he?

"Hey, I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to your friend, wasn't I?" Canderous glared at Carth.

"I'll break in if I feel like it," Mars announced, moving slightly so that he was physically between Canderous and Carth. "I trust you'll know if I do." And, with a firm hand on Carth's arm, he dragged the Republic pilot from the cantina.

"You're going to do it," Carth realized as Mars' steps turned toward the lift to upper Taris.

"Getting off this planet is a priority," Mars pointed out.

"And how are you going to deal with Davik?"

Mars frowned. "I don't know. He could be a small problem. But getting the codes is the issue at hand right now."

"Do you know if there are any other survivors from the Endar Spire?" Carth asked cautiously.

"Haven't seen any."

Carth frowned at the nonchalant response. Bastila had been so _sure_ that Mars had been right in front of her during the swoop race winner announcements. _Who isn't telling the truth? _Carth wondered.

* * *

Bastila glanced cautiously around her before dropping down into the gaping hole her pod had left while crashing into the depths of the undercity. Using the Force to cushion her landing, she landed next to the pod. 

It had been ravaged by salvagers, that was quite obvious, and that thought scared her a bit. If someone had found her lightsaber-

But no, her 'saber was wedged back underneath her seat in the same place as she'd last touched it before she'd fallen unconscious. Its weight was comforting, as if a much larger weight had been lifted from her shoulders, even though she hadn't yet found Revan. She knew that Revan was still without his favored weapon, and therefore had probably not yet rid himself of the inhibitor.

She straightened at the sound of hurried footsteps. A young blue Twi'lek girl ran out of the dark surrounding passageways of the undercity. Bastila did not need the Force to know something was wrong, but though it she felt the fear and desperation of the young Twi'lek.

The Twi'lek had seen her movement, and hurried over, her voice proceeding her. "Oh please, you gotta help me! No one else will help me – even the Beks won't help me!"

"What's happened?" Bastila asked, raising a calming hand to the Twi'lek's shoulder.

"Me an' Zaalbaar were just exploring the undercity – you know, just seeing what we could find – when we were ambushed by Gamorreans! Big Z shouted for me to run, so I took off. I thought he was right behind me, but when I got out he wasn't. I just know they're gonna sell him – I can't let that happen!"

"Of course not," Bastila soothed.

"So would you help me?"

Bastila looked down at the hopeful eyes and she could see the shadows of past refusals lurking in their depths. Torn, Bastila hesitated. She _had_ to find Revan, but she _wanted_ to help this Twi'lek.

"I will, but I am in the middle of looking for someone as well. I believe he may be in the Black Vulkar base-"

"Oh! I can get you in there!" the Twi'lek perked up. "Right after we find Big Z, I swear!"

Bastila nodded. Help getting into the Black Vulkar base was well worth a little rescue mission. "That sounds like a good plan… um, I don't believe you told me your name."

"Oh, I'm Mission!"

"Bastila," Bastila replied, "Now where are the Gamorreans?"

"In the sewer. I guess they think it smells like home." Mission wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Lead on. If we're quiet enough, we can sneak your friend out without the Gamorreans noticing."

Mission set off at a trot, navigating the darknened paths of the undercity with the complete absence of fear which spoke of familiarity to the area. She stopped by a stone outcropping and pointed out a rusted grate that seemed to have been built into the stone.

"Help me shift this over."

The grate slid slowly, rust flaking off to the ground as both bulled at it. It opened to reveal a ladder and just enough space to crawl through.

"We should come out practically on top of them," Mission told Bastila as she gripped the top rung of the ladder and began to climb down. Bastila followed silently.

The smell in the sewers was almost overwhelming, but Bastila forced herself to ignore it. Mission had continued onward as if the smell hadn't affected her at all, and she waved at Bastila for the woman to catch up.

"They should be in there," she whispered, pointing at a door. The rooms the Gamorreans were using as their base had probably been filtering and sanitization units back before Taris' age of expansion, when the undercity had been the uppercity.

"Is there any other way in?" Bastila asked.

"There's another door on the other side, I think," Mission frowned in thought as she pictured what she knew of the sewers in her mind. "But to get there we have to walk through half of the sewer system and it could be just as guarded as this door."

"We'll take our chances with this door then." Bastila did _not_ relish the idea of hiking through the sewers.

Mission fiddled with the lock on the door, and it opened without protest a few seconds later. The room was empty as the girls cautiously crept inside.

"They must be out on patrol," Mission whispered.

Bastila nodded, but she didn't quite believe Mission's explanation of the situation. The Force was shifting in warning around her; there were Gamorreans here somewhere, Bastila was sure of it.

Mission's attention was caught by another locked door, and she walked over to examine it. "Hey," she spoke in a normal voice and Bastila winced, realizing that the Gamorreans would hear it if they were here. "This isn't a computerized lock. It's _old_, like manual lock old. But I know how to handle these."

Bastila had long stopped listening to Mission. Her attention was on the other door that had opened during Mission's chatter.

Mission missed the opening of the other door complexly, fiddling with the manual lock. She crowed in triumph as it opened, turning to show Bastila. Words of self-praise died on her lips as two Gamorreans charged them from the door, axes raised.

It happened so quickly, Mission wasn't sure she had actually seen it. There were flashes of bright yellow light and then the two Gamorreans fell to the floor, dead.

Bastila stood in the center of the grime-coated room, double-bladed lightsaber glowing in her hands.

Mission gaped at her, even as Zaalbar rushed to her from inside the room she'd unlocked. "You're – you're a _Jedi_," Mission stammered.

Bastila nodded, her gaze falling to the wookie who stood behind the Twi'lek. "Is that your friend?"

Mission grinned up at Zaalbar. "Yup, this is Zaalbar. Big Z, this is Bastila."

Bastila deactivated her lightsaber as the Wookie looked at her with kind eyes. He growled a question in his own tongue, asking if Bastila had been the one who saved him.

"Well, I wouldn't say that-"

"No, you _totally_ did," Mission cut off Bastila's attempt to be humble. "I had no idea the Gamorreans were there. If you hadn't been here, Big Z would still be locked up!"

Zaalbar cut her off, snarling softly that then he owed her his life.

"This really isn't the place to be standing around talking," Bastila started. "More Gamorreans could-"

Zaalbar explained firmly that his people spoke of life-debts where they were incurred.

"Woah, a life-debt?" Mission was awed. "This is big. Big Z, you sure?"

Zaalbar replied that he was sure, that without the Jedi, the Gamorreans would have sold him.

"If you're sure." Mission turned to Bastila. "Do you know what this means?"

Bastila _did_ know what a Wookie life-debt meant: life-long fidelity until the debt was paid off. Considering the weight of the debt, it was _very_ hard to pay off. And here she was, in a Gamorrean hide-out in the sewers, contracting a life-debt. How did she get herself into these things? Still, she had been taught that she must respect all cultures, even in these strange situations.

Resigning herself to the fact that this _was_ happening, Bastila nodded to Mission. "I am aware of what a life-debt is, Mission." Bastila bowed formally to Zaalbar. "I do not believe that such a powerful bond is needed for this situation. However, if you are certain, I am honored to accept your help."

"Then Big Z and I are sticking with you. 'Cuz where Big Z goes, I go."

She would deal with this later, Bastila told herself firmly. Finding Revan had to take priority now. "Very well, but I must find Mars now."

"He's the one in the Vulcar base, right?" Mission grinned as she lead the way back into the sewers. "See? I remembered! One tour of the Vulkar base coming up!"

Zaalbar was not so peppy. He queried Mission about a rancor as he trailed behind her.

"We've got a Jedi on our side, who cares about the big ol' rancor?"

Bastila cared. She cared _very_ much. 'Big ol' rancors' were a problem, even to Jedi. One couldn't just charge in, lightsaber swinging. Sure, one _might_ decapitate it, but the odds were that one would just maim it, which would only make the rancor even harder to deal with. She would need a good plan if she was going to get rid of-

"Eww! What's that smell!" Mission held a hand up to her nose. She had led them to a hallway, closed off on one side by a force field and it _stank_.

"Let me fiddle with this a bit, and we're out of here," Mission grumbled as she hurried to unlock the force field. "Smells like something _died_ in here."

The force field was down in moments, and the stench only got worse, rolling down the corridor in waves. "Oh, ewwwwww, that means the Vulkars probably killed something and left it to rot out here," Mission muttered. "Come on, the rancor's this way."

Bastila very much so wanted to go the _other_ way, away from both the rancor and the smell, but duty kept her following Mission.

The Twi'lek led them cautiously down the long hallway. Slowly, she poked her head around the doorway into the large cavern at the hallway's end. She gasped and bolted into the room. "Wow!"

Bastila and Zaalbar followed her. In the center of the room lay a very large, very _dead_, rancor. Stuck through its skull, like a bizarre trophy, was a standard vibroblade.

"You have to be _really_ good to kill a rancor that way!"

Bastila did not share Mission's awe. Unlike Mission, she had a very good idea of who had killed the rancor and, compared to his other feats, one rancor would not be a challenge to him.

"The door to the Vulkar base is open," Zaalbar growled. "Something is wrong."

Bastila highly agreed, but she had to locate Revan, no matter what he'd done. "Let's go inside."

* * *

Inside was more rank than outside. "Hey, I thought the _rancor_ was the smell!" Mission held her nose with one hand. "This can't just be from the rancor." 

"No, it's not." Bastila had seen the first corpse, slouched against the wall. She could see other awkward shadows down the hall that were probably others.

"Oh, gross!" Mission stepped away from the body as Bastila stepped closer to it.

It was glaringly obvious how the former Vulkar had died. "He's been killed by a vibroblade."

"This one too," Zaalbar added from a little way down the hall.

Bastila frowned and began to make her way through the base, checking corpses as she went. All had been killed by a vibroblade and left behind, slumped over in whatever place they had been killed. There was only one corpse different from the rest. What looked like a former technician had died when his neck had been snapped.

"Did we find your friend yet?" Mission whimpered. "This place is giving me the creeps."

"He isn't here," Bastila murmured. He wouldn't be; Revan was smart enough to know that even the great Dark Lord of the Sith shouldn't hang around after he murdered an entire gang. His trail would be colder than a snowstorm on Hoth by now. The vibroblade through the rancor's head was most likely the one he'd used to get rid of any and all who had interacted with him – perhaps even those who hadn't – just to make sure he couldn't be followed.

She held in a sigh as she started back to the small abandoned apartment Carth had commandeered as a hideout. She could only hope he would not fail where she had.

* * *

Revan held back his nausea as he pushed the naked, unconscious, Twi'lek off him. This, he swore, would be the _last_ time he mistook how much alcohol it would take to knock out a non-human. 

Pawing through her clothes, that she'd practically flung to the other side of the room, his fingers closed around a thin, plastic card.

"You're superiors won't be too happy with you tomorrow," he told her as he pulled out the ID card. "Not after your wayward amorous exploits allowed me to steal their launch codes."

* * *

Bastila nearly pounced on Carth as he entered the hideout. "Have you found Mars?" 

"He's breaking into the Sith base as we speak," Carth replied. "If all goes according to plan, we're headed off Taris tomorrow."

"_We_?"

"I remembered not to mention you, though I still don't know why that's so important." Carth trailed off as he noticed the other two occupants of the room. "Who are they?"

"Oh," Bastila seemed to suddenly remember that they weren't alone in the hideout. "Carth, this is Mission and Zaalbar."

Carth eyed the blue Twi'lek girl and the Wookie – a truly unusual pair. "Are they the ones who live here?" he asked.

"No, they helped me break into the Vulkar base. I found that, though Mars _had_ been there, he disappeared after the race. But you found him! We have to go get him at once!"

"We can't do that, Bastila, he's got to be in the middle of the Sith base by now!"

Bastila paled but her calm never wavered. "Fine. What is the plan for after he comes out of the base?"

"He and Canderous are going to go get us a ship."

"And you expect Mars and this Canderous, whoever he is, to just come and pick us up once they have one?" Bastila seemed scandalized.

Carth looked at her suspiciously. "What aren't you telling me about Mars? Of course he'll come to get us. He _is_ a Jedi – isn't he?" Bastila was silent and that was enough of an answer for Carth. "He's not a Jedi."

"No, Carth, he's not." Bastila's eyes were downcast. "He's a former Jedi, our prisoner."

"He said he would come here once they'd stolen the ship."

Bastila sighed. "Then I'll have to lay low and we'll have to hope that he wasn't lying to you."

* * *

Revan fought down a purr of contentment as he felt the life of the Sith apprentice sputter and die underneath his fingertips. This apprentice, who had taken the Force for granted, was a product of Malak's _new_ breed of Sith. 

Pathetic. _Just_ like their Lord.

The apprentice's ID allowed him to access the computer but he didn't bother to download the codes. He wouldn't trust Canderous farther than he could throw him without the Force. Not yet, at least.

Besides, with his eidetic memory, it only took him a few seconds to memorize the codes.

Nodding to the corpse he left behind, Revan swept out of the Sith base and into the pale Tarisian morning. He wondered idly if Canderous would _still_ be drinking in the cantina. _Well, he'd better be,_ Revan thought, because there was no way Revan was waiting around for him. He could just as easily break into Davik's estate by himself.

The only thing that the Mandalorian saved him was time. Which, he admitted, he might not have much of. Malak had never been one for patience, and he'd obviously not found Bastila yet. Taris was safe only until Malak found her, or ran out of patience and decided she wasn't worth _that_ much.

Still, Canderous was a Mandalorian. He would have served in the Mandalorian war. He would have also, therefore, served watch duty in that war, in much more uncomfortable places than the undercity cantina of Taris.

* * *

He hadn't underestimated Canderous. The other man was waiting for him with a smug smile and an all-knowing look. 

"I know the Sith base had a break-in, and I know it was you," he started without preamble. "I know you've got the codes I need."

"You're very well informed," Revan replied. "I might know what you're talking about. I also might agree with you."

"I've got a speeder waiting. Davik's interested in meeting you."

Revan frowned, but nodded and followed Canderous toward the outside of the cantina. Just as they reached the door, he swerved and grabbed a nearby patron by the neck. Head and wall met; one could not miss the audible crunch as the patron's struggles abruptly stopped and blood trickled down from a head-shaped imprint on the wall.

"In future, Canderous, it would be wise of you not to schedule any appointments for me."

Canderous said nothing, just as Revan knew a Mandalorian would not.

* * *

Davik was a thoroughly unimpressive man, Revan mused. Had he full – or even partial – use of the Force, he wouldn't even have bothered with allowing the man to speak. But that was one luxury he did not have, so he couldn't choke off Davik's voice. 

Not that Davik would pay any attention to _him_ for a while. The Exchange boss was busy with the standard imitation tactics that smuggler crime lords always overused. Davik had met them flanked by another one of his _employees_. The other bounty hunter was equally unimpressive and unimposing, and Revan wouldn't have given him a second glance if not for the hatred that began to roll of Canderous toward him.

This, in itself, was a surprise. He should not have been able to sense that shift of emotions, no matter how potent, without the Force, and he truly _hadn't_ felt had a connection to the Dark Side since Bastila had tampered with the Force inhibitor.

He fought back a grin and the desire to check the bracelet. The Dark Side was as loathe to be parted from him as he was from it, it seemed.

His obvious ignoring of carefully planned intimidation tactics was annoying Davik. The Exchange was soon mentioned, to which Revan could only smile.

"We'll see if the Exchange can handle me," he replied to the obvious threat with a smugness that made Davik also smile.

_Smile while you can, you idiot,_ Revan thought savagely as Davik suggested a tour of the estate. _In fact, why don't you smile as I slit your throat. It would be a good dieing look for you._

With the Sith blockade so relevant in the mind of the Exchange member, Davik was eager to show off his newest prize: a ship capable – supposedly – of outrunning a Sith starship. Of course, this was useless against a blockade without the codes, which Davik properly bemoaned.

Revan wasn't sure what he thought of the Ebon Hawk. She was not, in his opinion, a beauty. The last model of Mandalorian Basilisk war droids before the end of the war – now _they_ had been truly beautiful. The individual Sith warships of the fleet threatening Taris – they were also beautiful.

The Ebon Hawk had only one gun turret. It was obviously a smuggler's ship; it was not supposed to attract attention to itself with a sleek or dangerous exterior. It was designed to sneak into ports, to hide from authority.

Revan disliked stealth _immensely_. He'd had his General, Muraki, to lead ambush or stealth attacks during the war. Or even Malak could have been goaded into it. _He_ had always lead the main forces, _he_ was the authority that people used ships like the Ebon Hawk to try and avoid.

But his thoughts kept returning to the ship as he followed Davik to what he assumed where the residential quarters – unless there was some _other_ supposedly impressive torture chamber, or weapons cash, or some Jedi-be-damned _ballroom_ that he truly had no interest in seeing. The ship… was very new. The _stark_ kind of new. There were indeed options in that new, untapped, untried, potential. Perhaps Carth would think of some other modifications that could be made to it – apart from the _obvious_ need for another gun turret.

Revan removed the small frown from his face that grew from thinking of Carth. What was he doing? He was making the same mistake all over again. He was creating a potential _Malak_ all over again. He'd sworn – over and over again – between sessions in the temple basement on Coruscant, where Jedi masters painstakingly attempted to peal layers of memories out of his mind, that he would never trod _that_ road again. It was an easy mantra on which to hone his rage. It had kept his mind intact.

_Never again. Never again. Never _ever_ again._

Yet he had somehow failed to follow this oath. He'd agreed to take Carth, and whatever remnants of the Endar Spire crew the pilot managed to find, off of Taris. As if they were equals, comrades…

Partners.

It was not something he should be doing. What he _should_ do was escape on the Ebon Hawk, leave Carth to whatever fate Taris would suffer at Malak's hands, and deal with Canderous once safely in hyperspace. Then find a planet advanced enough to remove the accursed Jedi technology from his wrist.

But he probably wouldn't even kill Canderous in the long run. It had been too long since the Mandalorian wars to be killing Mandalorians without thought. It had been too long since he'd last worked with a Mandalorian, as well. He _knew_ Mandalorians, he understood them. He'd even enjoyed working with one of them during the war.

That is, until she'd left him at the end of it.

Muraki. He should have suspected she could walk away after the Mandalorian war – she'd already walked away from her own people when the Jedi had come for her at the tender age of five. She did not owe Revan companionship, as Malak did. She had not even been raised in the same Enclave. She'd met Revan at the start of the war, when she'd left the Jedi to lend her aid – her embedded knowlage of the Mandalorians from her own childhood – against her former people. And honor had demanded she return to the Jedi after the war, to return home victorious and hold her head high.

Muraki would always follow where her Mandalorian honor lead. Not even the Jedi code had managed to squash the Mandalorian inside of her.

And for _what_? For the pathetic Council to rip her from the Force and exile her. What had she gained? Nothing!

Nothing except her Mandalorian-be-damned _honor_.

At least the Jedi had not tried to take away her memories.

He should have tried to find her before Malak's betrayal. Before she'd had the time to disappear as effectively as Muraki did anything she truly wanted to do. Now it would probably be a hopeless search. Besides, he should be focusing on Malak's destruction, focusing on getting rid of his only true threat before he sent someone on the search for his wayward, prodigal General.

"Are you going to just sit there, or are we going to get out of here?"

Revan's eyes rolled to light on Canderous.

_Are you going to order the attack, or shall I just tell my men we're going to have time for that tea party after all? We're ready to _fight_, Revan!_

Such similar attitudes, Canderous and Muraki.

Revan blinked and stretched. Since when did _he_ indulge in nostalgia? He'd obviously been cut off from the Force for longer than was healthy. It was beginning to mess with his mind. He missed the whisperings of the Dark Side.

"Let's go get that ship and get out of here," he replied, and headed for the door. The hallways were eerily quiet. "I guess other people take him seriously when he tells them to stay in their rooms," Revan mused.

"He represents the Exchange; of course they listen."

Revan made a noncommittal sound. _He_ remembered when the Exchange had been a small drug ring centered at Nar Shaddaa and Nal Hutta. How that small parasite had grown during the War was truly amazing.

He'd have to destroy it. Malak had let it grow too powerful – unchecked all this time.

"You do realize that we'll need Davik's security codes to get into the hanger," Canderous drawled as Revan meandered down the hall, seemingly without a care.

Revan looked back at him in mock surprise. "You fought in the Mandalorian war and you don't know how to break into _that_ kind of security?" Canderous' face grew thunderous and Revan laughed. "Ah, I can't either. But I did memorize what the code was when Davik entered it." His eidetic memory served him well, even without the Force to enhance it.

* * *

Almasy was just typing in the first numbers of Davik's security passcode when the ground shuddered. 

"What the hell?" Canderous cursed as another, more violent, shudder sent him sprawling onto one of the tables.

"The Sith haven't found what they're looking for," Almasy murmured, still upright even as the tremors increased in both frequency and magnitude. Then, more quietly, he added, "His patience has run out."

Whose_ patience had run out?_ Canderous wondered as Almasy calmly finished typing in the code. Almasy knew much more than he let on, which was fine with Canderous – he didn't _want_ to know Almasy's life story after all – but it did raise some questions that couldn't be ignored.

Mars Almasy was an exercise in contradictions. He wore Jedi robes, but acted in a manner which clearly indicated he was no Jedi. Canderous hadn't even seen a hint of a lightsaber or the strange Force powers both Jedi and Sith used. But he obviously wasn't from this Sith fleet either. Was he a rouge Force user? Or from another Sith fleet? Or perhaps he didn't even have a connection to the Force and the robes meant something else to him entirely.

The hanger doors hissed open and Canderous could now see the storm of attacks that the Sith fleet was sending to Taris: the source of the violent tremors. It looked like a rain of fire.

"We have company," Almasy murmured.

Canderous saw that. They were indeed not the only two in the hanger. Davik and Calo Nord were making their way across the hanger towards them.

"Get to the ship and start it up. I'll join you momentarily," Almasy ordered, his voice just audible over the roar of Sith missiles and ground tremors. He then began to saunter towards Davik, as if he had complete faith that Canderous would carry out his order.

"Blast these Sith! They'll destroy the entire planet!" Davik stopped short but Almasy continued to walk toward him. "Well, look what we have here. Thieves in the hanger."

"Let me take care of them, Davik," Calo Nord grinned at Canderous, even as Almasy closed in on them, "I've been waiting for this for a long time."

* * *

Revan's eyes narrowed and he felt Canderous' anger spike to match his own. Such men as this bounty hunger were men whom he loved to destroy, loved to see their arrogance crushed into fear. His hand jerked sharply towards the ship, reminding Canderous of his order. It was imperative that they leave _now_ and, no matter how much fun he would have had decimating Davk and his hunter, that took priority 

He could feel a jolt of electricity on his wrist, and he glared down at the sparkling mesh of metal. But he could _feel_ the Dark Side looming around him, only a hairsbreadth away – as if he could reach out slightly and touch it.

So he did. His hands lifted skyward and he focused all of his hatred. Hatred of the Jedi, hatred of the inhibitor itself, hatred of Malak's fleet above Taris, and hatred of himself for opening himself to betrayal to begin with.

The bracelet hissed and Revan winced as the metal burned against his skin, but the Dark Side roared to life around him and a tendril of Force arched upward toward the steel scaffolding of the hanger.

It all came crashing down on top of the other two men. Revan grinned arcanely and waved in the direction of their corpses as he headed up the ramp.

Canderous was already at the controls shouting about Sith passcodes, though Revan was willing to bet he'd watched the whole scene like the good Mandalorian Canderous was. He entered the passcodes, reminding Canderous that they _would_ have to pick up Carth first.

Canderous huffed incredulously but turned the ship towards where Mars indicated.

* * *

"Remember to stay hidden, Bastila," Carth warned as they made their way out of the hideout. 

"If Mars holds his promise at all," Bastila shot back.

Carth did not respond. How could he? If Mars did not come as promised, they would all be dead in no time with this Sith barrage.

Behind them, Mission cowered in the protective shadow of Zaalbar. "I don't like this, Big Z," she told him. "I don't like this at all." She had heard Carth and Bastila arguing about this Mars Almasy person. She only hoped he would bring the ship as he promised.

Her eyes scanned the sky, looking for something that did not match the sheets of red which hailed from the sky. She nearly crowed in relief as she saw a black dot emerge from the richest sector of the Taris upper city.

"There!" she yelled, pointing.

"That's him," Bastila confirmed, though in a much less joyful tone, ducking low behind the rubble that now littered the streets. "I can sense he's on that ship."

The ship came closer and hovered just above the ground as the landing ram descended. In the entryway stood a man dressed in Jedi robes, with long purple hair that the wind ripped free from collar and robes. It had to be at least as long as Mission's head tails, Carth thought as he helped her jump onto the loading ramp.

"I'll tell Canderous we're leaving," Mars called down to Carth and disappeared into the ship.

In the few seconds before the ramp began to close, Bastila leapt from her hiding place and jumped onto the ramp. She slipped inside the ship as it closed securely behind her.

* * *

Mission 'eeped' as the ship lurched through the atmosphere. A gruff voice yelled something from the cockpit about Mars and a gun turret, before it began swearing in a language she thought she'd heard before but couldn't place. 

The strange Jedi from before walked past her, making his way to the gun turret most likely. He was not out of sight for two seconds before the ship lurched, sending Mission sprawling to the floor.

They were being shot at! Mission cringed, remembering her brother's warning that most ships' shielding couldn't take more than six or seven shots before it failed and the ship was history. Had Mission been religious, she would have begun to pray. But since most of the new religions nowadays were scams anyway, she lay against the cold floor and hoped Mars was a good shot… no, hoped that he was a great shot – a _spectacular_ shot.

The ship shuddered once more and then Mission felt the hum of the hyperdrive kick in through the floor. She sighed in relief and scrambled back to her seat.

The strange Jedi – was this Mars Almasy? – swept past her against, muttering. "Increase shielding, more gun turrets, different _style_ targeting system…"

He must have been listing off things to change on the ship. Mission didn't know why he was complaining, they _were_ alive after all, and that was always what mattered most. This Jedi person needed to get his priorities straight.

Mission followed him to the cockpit, where Carth was taking over the pilot's chair from a guy she didn't know. The Jedi was leaning on the navigational map. He raised an eyebrow as she entered, but said nothing.

"We have to decide where we're actually going once we come out of hyperspace," the guy with the gruff voice who'd sent Mars to the gun turrets before, continued speaking as he let Carth take his place. "We're gonna come out of hyperspace right near Nar Shadaa – you can get anywhere from there."

"We'll go to Dantooine," a voice from behind Mission declared.

The three men whirled to look at Bastila, who stood with one hand on her lightsaber, watching the other Jedi warily.

"Force, no," Mars snarled as the gruff-voiced guy demanded, "Who the hell are you?"

Carth seemed the least flustered. "Are you sure Bastila?"

"There's a Jedi enclave hidden on Dantooine. Malak won't find us there."

Malak? Mission's eyes widened. They hadn't said they were on the run from _Darth_ _Malak_. What had she and Zaalbaar gotten themselves into?

"I'm sure not going to hang around some Jedi enclave," gruff-voice snarled. "You can drop _me_ off on Nar Shadaa."

"It would be best to go right to Dantooine," Bastila seemed to ignore him, even as she addressed what he had just said. "The faster we get there, the safer we will be."

She looked at the other Jedi as if daring him to object. Gruff-voice, too, looked at him, as if expecting him to react. Even Carth was watching him out of the corner of his eye.

Mission was baffled. Why was everyone waiting on that strange Jedi's response? What he _that_ important? Wait… was that guy the Mars person they were talking about? The one who was supposed to defeat Malak for the Jedi? Mission hadn't seen any other people on this ship, so he had to be Mars. But, if he was Mars, he was just a prisoner, right? Why was he wearing Jedi robes? And why would he be deciding what to do?

The Jedi finally lifted his eyes from Bastila's lightsaber and Mission held in a gasp at how _red_ they were. She nearly recoiled from his tone as he spoke, even if his words weren't aimed at her. His voice was like poison – just like the poison Taresian nobles slipped into each other's ale when they wanted to make sure the other never became a threat. Mars' voice was just like that – in intent, sound, and the aftertaste it left in her mouth.

"Only _after_ the fighting is done, do the Jedi crawl out of the framework, I see. And they still expect to be catered to as if we're alive only because of their cowardice. They don't care about those who actually _fought_ and helped them – only themselves." He drew level with Bastila, towering over her even as she refused to back down. "Because _you_ refused to act before on the Endar Spire, Malak just destroyed a planet. Think about that as you go scurrying back to you _enclave_." He spat out the word as if it was vile. "You _disgust_ me." He swept past her with a glare.

The energy in the cockpit seemed to drop when Mars left. Bastila relaxed, though her countenance remained grave. She slid bonelessly into the co-pilot's seat as Carth returned his full attention to the controls. There was nothing he could _do_ while in hyperspace, but no one seemed to want to look at one another.

And Mission could not seem to get Mars' words out of her head.

_"Malak just destroyed a planet."_

Malak _had_ just destroyed a planet. Her planet

Malak had just destroyed _Taris_.

Mission bolted from the cockpit to burry her head in Big Z's fur as the sobs began.

Taris, and everything about it – everything it had meant to her – was gone.

* * *

Revan held in a shriek of rage as he stormed from the cockpit. Bastila had snuck on the ship without his notice! Him, the Dark Lord Revan! His left hand slammed against the wall, the metallic sound of his bracelet hitting steel accompanied by a shower of sparks that would have made a lesser man wince. 

And he _might_ have sensed her, had he not called out to the Dark Side to kill Davik and his bounty hunter. Had that one moment of triumph been worth the resulting backlash that allowed Bastila to avoid his detection?

His mouth set in a grim line as his steps continued their perusal of the ship. He would have to _make_ it so.

* * *

Revan eventually stopped at the garage of the Ebon Hawk. The workbench had been stropped of anything he might have found useful, and the mangled remains of those tools bore the signs of lightsaber sabotage. 

Bastila's work.

He turned his back on the workbench and surveyed the rest of the room. Davik had stored a swoop bike in the garage – obviously he was planning to race it. Revan crossed to the bike and began to look it over, wondering how a man like Davik would outfit his racing bike.

It was more up to Revan's standards than the Ebon Hawk was, but he still found components that could be adjusted, little things he could tweek here and there. A mental list was forming in his mind as he heard thick boots approaching the garage.

"I'm surprised you didn't do more," Canderous commented from the doorway.

"Lightsaber against no lightsaber in close quarters where she was just waiting for me to attack would not bode well for a victory."

If Canderous noticed that he had implied he _could_ still manage it, he said nothing. "I take it you know most of these people then," he said instead.

"I _know_ Carth. I unfortunately have an acquaintance with Bastila, that I'd as soon terminate as admit to. The Twi'lek and the Wookie are new to me, though; no idea where Carth picked them up.

"From what I heard, they seem to be following that Jedi princess around."

Revan snorted. "They'll regret that eventually."

"Sounds like you don't like the Jedi," Canderous mused.

"The Mandalorian wars skewed my perspective," Revan commented idly, his smile mirthless, "Or so I'm told." He leaned back against the swoop bike's side. "Then again, you served in them as well and you seem like a sensible person, so I have no idea where that logic comes from."

Canderous snorted in amusement but didn't say anything.

"Got any stories?" Revan asked, turning back to the swoop bike.

"Of what?"

"Oh, anything. The only thing I've got to entertain myself with until Dantooine is this swoop bike, and I can't do anything without the right tools and they're all slag. A war story would be more interesting." A sinful smile was shot Canderous' way. "Be as graphic as you want."

A calculating look answered _that_ statement. "So you want to hear about my exploits. All right."

* * *

Mission slowly made her way towards where she could hear two voices talking about 'invasion forces' and 'war droids'. 

They abruptly stopped as she peeked her head in the doorway.

Mars and the man Carth had identified as 'Canderous', when she'd asked, were leaning on the swoop bike. On the floor in front of them, drawn out in chalk pilfered – no doubt – from the workbench, was the blueprint for a strange, triangular-shaped droid. She recognized it immediately – anyone would – as a Basilisk war droid model even though she'd never seen a real one.

They both stared at her and she wilted under their scrutiny.

"Um… sorry to bother you. Whacha talking about?"

"War," Mars replied simply, looking back to the drawing.

"Oh," Mission was unsure whether she would be allowed to stay or whether she should go, but she had to be with _someone_ and Big Z was standing guard over Bastila as the Jedi meditated, and Carth was flying the ship. "I've never been in a war."

Canderous rolled his eyes at her statement as if to say 'of course you haven't', but Mars smiled at her. She wasn't sure if it was a kind or unkind smile.

"Kid, what you just saw on Taris was _war_. Not all war is invasion forces. Sometimes it's little things, like a loss of patience."

"Loss of patience?!" Helpless rage at Taris' destruction bubbled up inside her. "You call destroying a planet, a loss of patience?"

Mars nodded serenely. "Taris was of no consequence to the Sith. The only reason they paid any attention to it at all was because Bastila was hiding there. The Sith's search for her on the planet was taking too long, so they took the impatient way out. They killed all the citizens and their own troops still planetside in the hopes that they'd kill Bastila in the process. Which, of course, was a complete waste of their time."

"That's disgusting." Mission felt sick, but she wasn't sure if it was because of what Mars had said, or because he'd said it in such a nonchalant way.

"A Sith does that," Mars' reply was flat, his tone dead.

"Revan wouldn't have done that," Canderous murmured, his gaze falling to the drawing on the floor. He missed Mars' head jerking towards him with an unreadable expression, but Mission didn't.

"But Revan was a Sith," she pointed out as the strange expression faded from Mars' face.

Canderous shook his head. "Taris was a military disaster compared to how Revan lead his army in the wars. He had a genius Malak will never be able to touch, no matter how powerful his fleet gets. He'll always stand in Revan's shadow."

Mission had started at Malak's name, as if just remembering something. "But you're going to defeat Malak, right?" she asked, looking hopefully at Mars. "Bastila said you're supposed to."

Now it was Canderous' turn to start and look at the other man.

Mars' mouth set in a line, and something dark lit his eyes. "Bastila is still an idyllic child when it comes to war. I plan to kill Malak. I'll only defeat him if I have to."

"But he'll still be gone, right?" Mission nodded to herself. "Yeah, and that's all that matters."

Mars nodded, "You're a smart kid. You learn quickly."

"I'm not a kid. And I have a name, you know. It's Mission."

"My apologies Mission. You're a very bright young woman."

"Mission?"

Bastila rounded the hallway on the other side of the garage, her surprise at seeing Mission with her present company obvious. She took in the two men with a disapproving glance, and the floor drawing with another.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was laden in suspicion, the question aimed at Mars instead of Mission.

Mission bristled at the tone. Should Jedi talk that way? Even to their prisoners?

"I believe the term is 'fostering friendship with potential allies'," Mars drawled. "Or it was when I was taught the Code. Granted, that was when I was very young, so I might have misinterpreted-"

"Be quiet Mars," Bastila snapped.

Mars merely smiled at her as if he'd won something.

"Any reason you're here?" Canderous drawled at her.

"Yes, actually. I wanted to speak with you, Mars."

"Weren't you doing that already?" Mars asked bemusedly.

"About the _Order_." The emphasis on Order was tangible.

Mars shrugged, as if in apology – as if the _Order_ wasn't _that_ big a deal – to Canderous and Mission before walking out to join Bastila in the hall. They headed for the starboard dormitory and Mission couldn't help craning her head around the doorway to watch them before Bastila closed the door.

There was silence for a few minutes, then Mission began to hear low murmuring, followed by raised voices. Yet, no matter how hard she listened, she could not make out the words that were spoken.

* * *

"What do you think you are doing?" Bastila demanded the instant the door sealed shut behind her. 

"I was _talking_. Am I not allowed to do that now?"

"You drew a Basilisk war droid on the floor! You were talking about the Mandalorian war!"

"Which is a good topic of conversation when talking to a _Mandalorian_," Revan drawled.

"What if he suspects who you are?"

"What if he does?" Revan shrugged. "He's just a Mandalorian. He's no threat to me."

"No threat to _you_? What if he tells other people? What if Malak finds out?"

Revan was nonplused. "If he's a threat to the Order, then get rid of him."

Bastila stared at him. He'd said that as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The Sith Lord, for she been reminded how apt that title was, raised an eyebrow at her silence.

"That is not the Jedi way and you know it. Stating such is pointless."

Revan's posture took on one of helplessness. "Then I can't help you, if you won't listen to reason."

"The Sith teachings are not _reason_, Revan," Bastila stated.

Revan rolled his eyes. "Someday you'll realize how wrong you are. But until then, perhaps this will make sense to you. Canderous is not a threat to you or your Order. He's a mercenary, a Mandalorian, that's all. We talk about the Mandalorian wars because it's something we can understand, _having_ _been_ _there_."

"There's nothing a Mandalorian can understand that other people cannot also understand."

Revan's smile was feral. "There is a great deal a Mandalorian can understand that other people cannot, and an even greater deal that a Mandalorian can understand that a _Jedi_ cannot. That is the reason my General was a Mandalorian by birth."

Revan swept by her and out of the dormitory, the door opening to his touch, leaving Bastila to ponder his words.

When Bastila finally returned to the cockpit, Canderous and Revan were arguing about the Mandalorian invasion plan at Seraco, as Mission listened, wide-eyed.

* * *

**status: beta'd by Hell's Bell**


	3. Dantooine

Chapter Two: Dantooine

Bastila could not hide a sigh of relief as the streaks of stars which heralded hyperspace slowed and Dantooine became visible, like a giant emerald in space. Even though she could not see the Enclave, she could _feel_ its presence. Dantooine was home for a Jedi.

* * *

It was night on Dantooine when the Ebon Hawk landed. Mission, Bastila knew, had grabbed a bunk in the starboard dormitory. Zaalbar had followed soon after. Canderous and Revan had continued _talking_ long after, but she had seen Revan heading for the other dormitory later and assumed he'd gone to sleep as well.

And with Revan not prowling around, she felt it was safe enough to sleep before trying to bring him before the council; she couldn't imagine him doing that willingly.

* * *

Carth blearily eyed the contents of his cup of java as he began to feel the first trappings of sleep edge away. He was _not_ a morning person – only years of active duty had ingrained in him the routine of getting up hours before noon.

A bloodcurdling, animalistic scream rattled the metal rafters of the ship and Carth jumped, cup nearly slipping from his fingers, and half of the java falling to the floor. As he steadied himself, he realized that was no woman's scream.

He heard feet pounding towards him from the cockpit and Bastila hurried by him without a word, her face whiter than a sheet and almost translucent in a fright that Carth had _never_ seen a Jedi wear. Only seconds later, heavier, more even footsteps marched toward him from the [portside] dormitory and Mars entered, his eyes ablaze.

He, too, ignored Carth and stalked toward the cockpit. Seconds later Carth heard a snarl and Mars returned.

"Where is Bastila?" the words oozed like poison, and the voice was horse – as if he'd been screaming.

"She left." Carth nodded toward the exit hatch.

Mars snarled and stalked towards the exit.

"You going to follow him?"

Carth looked up to see Canderous leaning on the doorframe to the garage, Mission poking her head around his body as if to see if it was safe.

"That would probably be a good idea, wouldn't it?" Carth sighed and placed the unfinished java on the counter. He was as awake as he'd ever be.

* * *

Mars was moving at a startlingly fast pace for a stalk. And he seemed to know exactly where he was going, pushing unsuspecting Jedi and Padawans out of his way if they got within three feet of him with a Force power that Carth was sure Bastila had said Mars _shouldn't_ have at this point.

Mars' destination was the Council chamber, and he barged into the room with a shriek of rage.

"_**BASTILA**_!"

"I knew he would come," an older Jedi in red remarked, his tone smug.

Mars ignored him, stalking up to Bastila. "How _dare_ you! How DARE you bind yourself to me!"

The ominous electric cackle of the bracelet on Mars' wrist was the only warning the Jedi masters got, as Mars' arm shot out in the direction of the male Twi'lek of the group and the Jedi's lightsaber flew to his hand. It ignited in an angry hum as Mars brought it arching towards Bastila's body – poised to cut her in two – too fast even for even eyes to follow.

"You'll die too!"

The blade stopped a hair's breath away from her torso.

"You know I speak true." Bastila's voice was steady, although shaded by fear.

"Fickle things, Force bonds are," the little green Jedi master said slowly. "Willing, are you, to take the chance?"

Mars winced as the bracelet sent out more sparks and slowly lowered the lightsaber. "I said I would never underestimate you again, Bastila. It appears I was wrong. Again, your cunning and trickery fool me."

"I had no more control over this bond forming than you, Mars!" Bastila huffed. "_You_ of all people should know that these things form on their own! And if it _was_ an ability I possessed, do you think I would allow myself to be bonded to _you_?!"

"Of course you would, if your Council demanded it," Mars hissed.

* * *

"I'm lost," Mission said in a very small voice, like the lost child she refused normally to be. "Isn't Mars a Jedi? Isn't the Jedi Council _his_ Council too?"

"I think there's more to Mars than the Jedi want us to know," Canderous' grin was feral and Carth didn't like it. "I've seen Jedi before, but none like Mars."

"You think he's a Sith?" Mission squeaked.

"That's exactly what I think."

* * *

The Twi'lek had retrieved his lightsaber from Mars' limp fingers and the little green Jedi master, Master Vandar, looked at Mars with a calculating expression. "Now, Bastila, telling us of your dream, I think you were."

"You will tell them _nothing_!" Mars hissed.

"I think not. She will tell us _everything_, Mars Almasy," the Jedi master in red, Master Vrook, replied instantly.

"I – we – saw a ruin. Malak and Re-" Bastila faltered over the name of the Sith Lord as Mars' glare intensified. "-Revan were there. Malak was talking about whether the Dark Side power they felt from inside was worth some risk, but Revan seemed to ignore him and unsealed an archway. And then they entered and saw this… well, I couldn't see much of it. A black apparatus of some sort."

"I see. Great power, this contraption has, does it?"

The question was aimed at Mars, who refused to answer, glaring at Bastila who could not meet his gaze.

"And here on Dantooine it is. Contributed to Revan and Malak's fall I believe it did. What think you, Mars?"

"I think I'm not going to tell you anything."

"So loyal to Malak, are you?"

* * *

"He _is_ a Sith!" Mission squeaked, and Carth felt something turn sour in his stomach. Of _course_ Mars was a Sith. How could he have been so blind?

* * *

Mars hissed, taking a menacing step towards Master Vandar, only to be blocked by two of the Masters. "Never insinuate that I am loyal to Malak – or ever was!"

* * *

"Not loyal to Malak… so then loyal to Revan," Canderous mused. "One of Revan's Sith. He would have fought in the Mandalorian Wars."

* * *

"Then why not tell what you know?" Bastila demanded. "If it will tell us how to defeat Malak, why not tell us?"

"Because it is not something Jedi should know." Mars' lips curled in a sneer as he turned to pin her with his gaze.

But Bastila had recovered some of her Jedi spirit and seemed unfazed by the glare that, only minutes ago, had made her unable to look off the floor. "So it's a Sith secret. Then I think, Masters, that it should be investigated. I think I can find the ruins from what I remember in the dream."

"No!" Mars snarled, again advancing on Bastila. "No Jedi will make it through the ruins. And I refuse to have my life cut short because of your stupidity and Jedi recklessness."

"Then you will have to come with me." Bastila said primly. "In fact, I think you will have to follow what I say from now on as well."

"Be assured, _that_ will not happen."

"Oh won't it? Then what's to stop me from taking my lightsaber and offing myself as you tried to do minutes ago?"

"Bastila!"

The reprimand of the masters went unheard as Mars bore down on Bastila. "You wouldn't kill yourself," he scoffed.

"Oh wouldn't I? You underestimate a Jedi's resolve. If this is the only way to convince you to work with the Jedi, then this is what it takes. I would gladly sacrifice my life to ensure that Malak and the Sith are defeated."

Mars drew himself up to his full height and sneered down at her. "Jedi hypocrisy, little Bastila. They, too-" he jerked his head to the side, indicating the Jedi Masters, "-would have no problem sacrificing your life to destroy Malak and _his_ Sith."

And Mars stalked from the room, leaving the Jedi council members to converse with Bastila.

* * *

"He's coming this way!" Mission hissed, as she backed behind Canderous.

"And he already knew we were here, if he's one of Revan's Sith," Canderous remarked.

Carth was silent as Mars approached them – as the _Sith_ approached them.

"Now, now, is it a custom in the Republic fleet to listen in on private conversations?" Mars' voice purred as he neared them. Seeing the look on Carth's face, an eyebrow rose. "And _what_ could you be thinking to have such a look?" Mars seemed only now to notice the presence of Canderous and Mission.

"Canderous. Mission." Mars inclined his head toward both of them before turning back to Carth as if they'd been having a conversation before that small interruption. "Is it really that bad? I thought you would have figured it out by now." He paused, thinking. "In fact, I would have bet Bastila told you – considering _you_ tracked me down on Taris."

"You're a Sith."

An amused smile played on Mars' lips. "Yes."

"You fought in the Mandalorian Wars."

The smile grew feral for a moment, then wistful. "_Yes_."

"And then you and all the other Sith turned on the Republic."

A simplistic tone. "Yes."

"And then when Malak turned on Revan-"

"I was captured by the Jedi in that battle, yes." The snarl again tinged his voice. "But this really isn't a good conversation to be having in the hallway. Jedi are the worst gossips, you know."

"No, I wouldn't." Carth replied blithely before turning and walking away – obviously not wanting to be followed.

Mars shrugged. "He'll come around," he told no one in particular. "I'm going for a walk."

"You sure the Jedi want you to go for a walk?" Canderous sneered.

Mars' smile would have been beautiful if not for the malice it failed to hide. "I'm sure they'll hate me for it." His head tilted to the side as if in thought, "But Jedi can't hate, can't they?" He shrugged. "Their loss." Mars meandered down the hallway in the opposite direction that Carth had taken.

* * *

Mission yawned as she returned to the Ebon Hawk. Canderous had slowly followed after Mars, but _she_ needed more sleep.

Zaalbar was waiting for her, his worried growl assaulting her ears the minute she entered. At his question, she looked towards the cockpit, which was sealed shut.

"Naw, I don't think we should disturb him, Big Z," Mission told the Wookie as she headed for the nearest bed. "It's been a big morning."

Zaalbar questioned her, chiding her for not waking him up.

"Hey, if you could sleep through that scream, you deserve to sleep in. But I'll tell you what happened-" her words were covered by a yawn, "-if I can stay awake long enough."

* * *

Mars was leaning against the outer wall of the enclave when Canderous was finally allowed outside by the protocol droid entry guard.

"You could have told me you were one of _Revan's_ Sith," Canderous shot at him immediately.

"Would it have really changed your perception of me?" Mars mused, walking away from the Enclave.

"Revan defeated us, not Malak. Of course it makes a difference."

Mars smiled a secret-laden, content, smile, which did not go unnoticed by Canderous. Yet before Mars could respond, they were interrupted.

"Excuse me. Are you a Jedi?"

"No." Mars sneered at the man before looking down at his robes. "I forget I'm wearing these sometimes."

"But you came from the Enclave!" the man sputtered, "You _must_ have contacts with the Jedi! Please – please help me!" Mars rolled his eyes but the man continued. "I petitioned the Council, but they won't see me!"

Mars snorted. "I'm not surprised. That sounds like the Jedi Council."

"Yet they should listen to me!" the man wailed. "I told them the Mandalorians were threatening my family, but they sent no one to protect us!"

"If you cannot protect yourself, you do not deserve protection," Canderous scoffed.

The man eyed the visible Mandalorian clan marking on Canderous' arm and turned, quailing, to Mars.

"So what did your family do to get on their nerves?" Mars was unimpressed.

"They came to the farm demanding credits and supplies. But Elsa – my Elsa – said no. So they killed her. Please – my daughter was murdered – help me! I seek vengeance! I'll even pay you to do it, if that's what it takes!"

Mars shared a look with Canderous before turning back to the man, eyebrow raised. "How much are we talking?"

The man sighed in relief. "You can name your price when it's done, Master Jedi."

Mars growled as he passed the man, "I'm _not_ a Jedi; no Jedi would seek vengeance for you."

The man was quiet as Mars stalked out of the Enclave courtyard. Canderous easily caught up with Mars' irate strides.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but what those Mandalorians did was against the Mandalorian code of honor, was it not?"

"The types of Mandalorians who settle on places like this are scavengers. They shouldn't even call themselves Mandalorians."

"Good. I'd have hated for my respect – gained in the Wars – to be diminished now." A feral grin split his face with maniac glee. "It's been a long time since I went hunting. Feel up to a day of sport, Canderous?"

Canderous hefted his repeating rifle. "Always."

* * *

Mission was again awoken from her sleep by a loud shriek. This one, however, was high and piercing. It wasn't Mars this time. She followed Zaalbar, rubbing sleep from her eyes, to the main room of the ship.

"You haven't seen him since this morning?!"

_Bastila's voice,_ Mission thought.

"Do I look like his keeper, Bastila?"

_Carth's voice,_ Mission identified again. _Guess that identifies who the 'he' is that they're talking about._

Carth was staring down Bastila as they entered. Canderous, Mission noticed, was nowhere to be seen.

"He didn't tell you anything? Like where he would be going?" Bastila's voice was pleading.

"I haven't talked to him since he left the Council room," Carth replied flatly.

"That means Mars is off on his own." Bastila sounded lost, as if something terrible had happened.

"I think he's with Canderous," Mission told Bastila helpfully, as she stretched, "So it's not like he's out on his own."

That didn't seem to reassure Bastila as much as Mission thought it would. She turned back to Carth pleadingly. "Please help me look for him, Carth. If he's gotten off-planet somehow-"

"Why is he so important, Bastila?" Carth demanded angrily. "Why does he know so much? I'm sick of being left out of the loop!"

"I can't tell you all of that, Carth." Bastila looked shaken. "He's our only real weapon against Malak-"

"He's a Sith!"

"Yes, he is. And, as such, also our prisoner."

"Why is he so important?" Carth repeated. "What can he do against Malak that no one else can?"

Bastila sighed. "He was captured during the battle when Revan was betrayed by Malak. He was right there when it happened."

"But so were you."

"So was I," Bastila agreed. "But I am no Sith. Mars is. And if there is one thing he wants, it's to avenge Revan."

"So let him!" Carth raged.

"We can't let him go off on his own," Bastila replied calmly, "because he's too powerful a Sith. As you said, he knows too much. And what he knows, Carth, is Revan's way of the Sith. You've fought against those kind of Sith; can we risk that there might be enough Sith who still remember and prefer Revan's way to unite?"

Carth deflated. "We can't. It would destroy the Republic."

"So we have to find him before he gets off the planet and reunites with Revan-sympathetic Sith!"

"You're talking about me, I assume," a voice drawled from the entry hatch. Bastila whirled around as Mars meandered into the room. Mission jumped out of his way as he passed her and raised her hand to her nose to try and block the pungent smell of blood of which Mars now reeked.

"What have you _done_?!" Bastila gasped as Mars' body came into full view.

Mars' robes were streaked with fresh blood. His face and hair were spattered with dried blood. In one hand he held a red Mandalorian helmet with was steadily oozing blood in huge drips onto the floor. His eyes were lit with a joyous light as he smiled.

"Why, Bastila, Canderous and I were engaged in a gentlemanly hunting expedition today," he drawled lightly. "Dishonored Mandalorian is in season right now."

Canderous appeared over Mars' shoulder, looking tired and elated at the same time. Bastila took another appraising look at the two of them and huffed.

"What _possessed_ you to go _kill_ Mandalorians?"

Mars grinned sinisterly at the Jedi. "We were just helping out the locals."

"Cut the innocent act, Mars," Bastila snapped, "It doesn't suit you."

Mars shrugged, unfazed. "If you say so. I'm heading for the 'fresher." He proceeded to do so, but stopped abruptly when Carth got in his way.

"And what are you going to do with that?" The pilot eyed the helmet-incased head in Mars' hand.

Mars 'hmm'ed thoughtfully. "Haven't thought of specifics yet. Maybe I'll hang it on a wall somewhere."

Carth groaned in disgust. "We all have to co-exist for a little while longer at least, Mars, and I'm guessing you're the only one not feeling a little sick right now because of that. Get rid of it."

Bastila's quick gasp of breath was audible in the silence after Carth's quiet order. Mission shifted behind Big Z – just in case she needed a shield, though. Carth was crazy, she decided, if he was going to order a Sith around – especially one who looked as Mars did right now.

But Mars' features smoothed out into an abiding smile. "All right," he agreed easily, tossing the head to Canderous. "Get rid of that for me, will you?" He didn't wait for an answer before sliding past Carth toward the refresher.

Canderous headed back out of the ship with the dripping helmet as Bastila stared at Carth in disbelief. After a few moments, Carth looked over at her. "What?"

"You gave him an order and he did it. Without complaint, without trying to refuse – without even a sarcastic comment! No one's been able to do that."

Carth shrugged. "I don't see what the big deal is, Bastila. If an order makes sense, normally people follow it."

"Mars is anything except a normal person, Carth. That man even insulted the Jedi Council on Coruscant after his capture! And he just obeyed you like you were a senior officer! He's up to something," Bastila warned, "Be careful, Carth."

"Maybe Carth's right, Bastila," Mission piped up. "I mean – he didn't even know what he was gonna do with it. Maybe it just made sense the way Carth explained it. He can go get another… dripping, bloody, Mandalorian head… once we're not sharing a ship."  
Bastila frowned. "It does make sense, Mission, I know. But Mars is a Sith – nothing he does is for a simple, sensible, reason." She turned back to Carth with worried eyes. "Just be careful."

* * *

His hair still wet from the 'fresher, Revan sighed and streched as he finished clearing a spot in the cargo hold's floor. Dropping easily into a kneeling position, his scope dwindled to the slight twinge of the Force he could feel flickering around him.

The bracelet sparked painfully as he drew on the Force. Yet, as the pain mounted, so did his connection with the Dark Side.

He missed it's sinful whispering in his ear. The same way a child misses a toy when it is broken beyond repair, the same way an addict missies his drug of choice when he runs out. In the same way a lover would miss his beloved, he surmised, he craved it, and its absence was an ache he could not ignore any longer.

The Force trickled back to him slowly as he began to loose feeling in the fingers on his left hand. It entwined around him – welcoming, enthralling – murmuring its undecipherable language.

And for a moment, Malak's betrayal had never happened. For an instant, he was still the undisputed ruler of the Sith.

"Mars! What are you doing?!"

Revan's eyes shot open, the Force slipping away beyond his reach, as he looked up at Carth standing in the doorway. Carth was staring at him. Revan frowned. What was wrong?

"Can you even feel pain?" Carth asked as he crossed the room to where Revan sat.

Revan raised an eyebrow, then looked down at where Carth was pointing expectantly.

His wrist was banded with a blistering ring where the bracelet had touched the skin.

Force, that _hurt_! Revan winced as the pain came roaring back with no Dark Side to distract him. "I didn't notice."

"Obviously."

Carth's tone was still hostile. Revan ignored the throbbing pain in his left wrist and calmly looked up at Carth. "I take it you had some other business to discuss with me other than my apparent ability to ignore injury?"

"Bastila is going to go find a ruin tomorrow. She has asked me to go with her. She said you would also be going." Carth's voice was emotionless, but tight. Revan didn't like it. It was _really_ too bad that he couldn't use Force Persuade. Then he wouldn't have to deal with this.

"And you don't want me to go?"

"I understand that you have to. You have to protect Bastila for your own sake."

"Hmm. You don't trust me."

"I don't."

Revan shrugged. What exactly did Carth want from this conversation? He was truly a fascinating man. "Good. Then we understand each other." He stood and brushed by Carth, heading for the med unit, aware of both the spike in Carth's anger and that Carth was following him.

"Understand each other?! Whatever makes you say _that_?"

"I'm a Sith and you don't trust me. That's very smart of you. That kind of attitude could save your life someday." Words delivered blandly, but Revan had to hide his glee at another spike of anger from Carth. What had _happened_ to this man to make him react so? Now Revan wished to know. "Why do I suddenly make you so angry?" he asked bemusedly. "You didn't trust me before, you don't trust me now – there is no net change that I can see." He fished in a drawer for a kolto pack.

"I trusted you to get this ship, didn't I?"

Carth's voice was dead and smoldering and absolutely _glorious_. Revan basked in the anger as he located the kolto pack and slit it open with his teeth in the practiced ease of a soldier.

"Ah, but then your anger is misplaced, Carth. I did not change between when I left with Canderous and now. Only your perception of me has changed. And you have only the Jedi to thank for that."

"You always blame everything on the Jedi."

"As the Jedi blame everything on the Sith. Think about it, Carth. Do my actions really seem so different to you?" Revan paused to apply the kolto to his wrist. "Or is it just that the adjectives describing me have worsened in the Republic's view over time?" A sinister smile played about his lips and Carth found himself wondering exactly when he had lost control of this conversation. "Truthfully, Carth, the Jedi have reduced me to nothing. I am a Sith in belief only. Have you seen any Force Lightning? Or a red 'saber? Of course not. I've been stripped of my weapons, stripped of my will, stripped of the _Force_. You fire at me with the blasters you like so much and, at this moment, I could not deflect the blaster bolts."

He marched past Carth again, now intent on leaving Carth behind for some solitude. "All I have left are my beliefs and my anger. Do me a favor for the time we have left to share the same ship, and leave me to them."

"They cause you to mutilate yourself…" Carth's voice trailed off meaningfully but Revan merely grinned.

"Peace is a lie; there is only Passion. Through Passion, I gain Strength. Through Strength, I gain Power. Through Power, I gain Victory. Through Victory, my Chains are Broken. The Force shall free me."

"You're reciting Sith code as a reason to harm yourself?"

"Is that not what the Jedi do when asked a question they cannot explain – defer to the code?"

Revan's amused chuckled lingered in the corridor long after he'd disappeared into the cargo hold again.

* * *

Canderous Ordo was not a man to feel vibes – of the negative _or_ positive variety – but even he could tell there was something downright wrong the next morning; a wrongness centered around Mars, Bastila, and Carth. The very room in which all three of them existed held a sour note.

The Republic pilot was both nervous and lost in thought. Bastila was as far from Jedi serenity as Canderous had ever seen. And Mars seemed to be soaking it in like a plant soaks in sunlight – which only served to aggravate the other two more.

And the Jedi were sending these three to some ruin that Mars thought dangerous enough to kill a Jedi? _That_ was one of the worst tactical errors Canderous had ever heard of the Council making.

And he'd heard of a lot of those in the Mandalorian Wars.

In their current state, Canderous was willing to bet only Mars came back. Something _had_ to give, and Canderous would only speculate on what eventually would.

* * *

That something came in the form of Mission Vao, though the poor Twi'lek had no idea what she was starting when she demanded to be allowed to go to the ruins.

From the start it had been a disaster in the making, Carth mused. And much like a horrid flight accident, he could only watch it unfold.

The life-debt that Zaalbar felt was owed Bastila was the problem. Zaalbar thought he should go along to protect Bastila. Mission didn't want to be left behind and said she would come along as well. Bastila said it was too dangerous for Mission. Mars quipped that it was too dangerous for all but a Sith. Bastila rounded on Mars to tell him to be quiet-

-and the shyrank next that was Mars' sarcastic tongue descended upon them all. Mars was bitter, and he aimed all of that anger at the nearest Jedi: Bastila.

Unbidden, Mars' words from the night before came pouring back into his mind. The Jedi had ripped away his weapon and his Force. Yet, Carth reasoned, Mars was a Sith. He followed Sith code and possessed the same lack of morals all Sith lacked. He abused the Force – didn't he?

Yet the look on his face when he told him how helpless he was… such a raw look, so open and unbound. That was no fake look.

How could a man as decent as he'd thought Mars Almasy to be miss the very thing that tied him to the depravity and corruption – the evil – of the Sith?

But miss it Mars did, and he hated those who took it from him. This rage ruled him to lash out at whomever he could at every opportunity. As he was doing now.

Mars stormed out of the ship, guttural curses spilling from his lips – only a few that Carth recognized.

Bastila's face instantly took on the look of thinly-veiled worry that appeared whenever Mars was out on his own, and she raced after him, calling over her shoulder that the ruins were Jedi work and for Mission and Zaalbar to stay behind.

Mission, crestfallen, adopted a stubborn look Carth knew well already from the short time on Taris. "I'm not a kid," she growled, "I can take care of myself."

Carth sighed, walking over to her. "Mission," he told her, "sometimes proving that you can take care of yourself is realizing that something is too powerful for you."

"But you're going!" Mission complained.

"Yes, and my every part of my being continues to tell me that I shouldn't be going, that I should leave it to Bastila and Mars."

Mission's grin was worth the little white lie.

* * *

Mars was already headed out of the Enclave courtyard when Carth caught up to Bastila.

"We have to catch up with him before he runs into any Kath Hounds," Bastila panted.

"Kath Hounds?"

"The Council told me there's a fallen Jedi who's aggravating the Kath Hounds in the area. I'd prefer to run into as few packs of them as possible."

"Mars doesn't seem to care," Carth replied as the figure passed over a grassy hill and out of sight.

By the time they'd gotten to the top of the hill, Mars was plowing through the valley below. "What does he think he's doing?" Bastila gasped as he continued on a course that would bring him in direct conflict with a pack of Kath Hounds. "Is he suicidal?"

Remembering the wound from the night before, Carth shuddered. "I think he just doesn't see pain the way we do."

"Come on, let's get to him before he gets himself killed." Bastila started down the hill but slowed as Mars reached the Kath Hounds.

Carth watched in astonishment as Mars walked right through the pack of dozing Kath Hounds under the watchful eye of the Kath Hound bull. "How did he do that?"

Bastila shook her head. "I don't know. He shouldn't be able to calm beasts without the Force. And even if he had, these Kath Hounds are so overwhelmed by the Dark Side already that it shouldn't have an effect."

"Maybe they just sense a kindred spirit," Carth guessed.

"I don't know, but he's getting too far away for comfort."

And indeed, Mars was almost already over the next hill.

* * *

Being inside the Jedi Enclave library was unsettling to a man like Canderous. This place, this huge room with its domed ceiling and overbearing statues, was _silent_. Quieter than a tomb, yet alive in a way Canderous couldn't quite describe.

_Trust the Jedi to have a freaky library, _Canderous griped._ Sure, it's open to all, but no common people want to go inside._ As he settled at an unused terminal, a few Jedi – or were they just apprentices? – gave him disapproving looks as they passed. Of course they would, he thought as he glared back at them. Even if what he was doing _was_ perfectly legal.

For once.

After all, the Jedi records _were_ open to the public, and he would enjoy reminding anyone of that _vehemently_ if they dared disturb him.

The Jedi archived _everything_, Canderous noted after a few minutes. The number of Jedi apprentices entered into the enclave, the number who became Padawans, the number who didn't, and so on and so forth. All of it useless to Canderous, yet he had to wade through it to find what he wanted.

Personal profiles.

All of the Jedi apprentices had profiles. Their exam grades, both theoretical and practical, their birthing date, familial status, hair color, eye color, weight and height graphed over time – all of it was recorded up until the point where they became a Padawan.

Canderous was searching for one apprentice in particular: Mars Almasy. He hadn't thought to do this before, but watching Mars calmly ripping off the head of that Mandalorian had changed his mind.

He had felt no remorse for the other Mandalorian, the fool deserved his death, but it had raised his respect for Mars. And with such a level of respect, came a level of wariness. Mars was dangerous, even without his Force powers. Canderous was no fool – he _knew_ it was only a matter of time before Mars got that back. When he did, Mars' will would _have_ to be catered to.

After Mandalore's and Revan's deaths, Mars was the first person Canderous had found who might be worthy of following.

Yet, when he searched for Mars Almasy in the records, the search came up with no results.

That was odd. Perhaps Mars hadn't gone to the Dantooine Enclave?

Canderous linked with search to the Coruscant archives and waited.

Nothing. There was no 'Mars Almasy' in the entire Jedi archives.

There were three listed with the last name of 'Almasy' and fourteen listed with the first name 'Mars', but no 'Mars Almasy'. Would he like to refine his search?

Canderous stared at the little question box. How was that possible? _Why_ would Mars not have a profile? Mars _had_ to have grown up in some Enclave _somewhere_. He had told Carth he'd fought in the Wars and then betrayed the Republic, so he had to have been a Jedi before becoming one of Revan's Sith.

Now there was a thought. Perhaps the Jedi removed the profiles of 'fallen Jedi'. Well there was an easy way to figure that out.

It only took a few minutes for the computer to locate Revan's profile. There was only one profile with the name 'Revan' in it. Canderous's eyes locked on the heading for a few seconds before forcing himself to look at the rest of the page.

'Revan Almasy'.

Well, the Jedi had sure tampered with Revan's profile. The picture had been removed, the recording of practical tests had been erased from the archive. But they had not destroyed it. And if they hadn't destroyed _Revan's_ profile, why bother destroying that of one of his followers?

The Jedi were hiding something about Mars.

Canderous stared at Revan's profile, wondering _what_ Mars had done to be erased from the archive.

Hmm… Revan was actually a few inches shorter than he was at the last recorded height. Weighed almost half his weight. Brown eyes. Purple hair.

Canderous's mind slowed to a stop as the words glared out at him from the screen. He blinked. They didn't change.

Purple hair.

_Purple hair._

Revan Almasy.

The screen couldn't scroll up fast enough to satisfy his curiosity.

Born on Coruscant, father deceased before birth, some name of a mother – recorded dead a few years after the date of Revan's entry to the Coruscant Enclave.

No siblings.

Canderous shut off the console viciously. He was jumping to conclusions, wasn't he? Mars could easily not be related to Revan – could easily not _be_ Revan. There were bound to be people with the same last name of 'Almasy', there were bound to be hundreds – millions – of people with purple hair, and the eye color did not match at all.

But still, Mandalorian instinct was screaming at him to investigate; the fact that Mars Almasy did not exist to the Jedi while Revan Almasy did boded for secrets and scandal. And he had learned long ago to always listen to his Mandalorian instinct.

Leaving the library lifted the weighted air that the inside of the Enclave held and Canderous found it easier to muse.

Could Mars be Revan? It seemed impossible, but yet it made sense. What if Revan wasn't killed, but captured? What greater victory could the Jedi feel, then to have their own enemy serving them? But Revan was too powerful for the Jedi; he'd rebelled and it had been all the Jedi could do to reign him in.

Canderous was sure the Force must be involved in some way as well – _everything_ both the Jedi and the Sith did revolved around the Force. So perhaps a few details were off, but it was still a plausible theory.

Or it could be a strange fiction of his mind's creation. He had to find a way to prove – or disprove – the idea. But where to start? He didn't know what Revan looked like, and there'd never been a trademark that Revan had claimed during the Wars. No fighting style, no battle plan, no preferred Force power. Revan was as changeable as shadow, and it had given him strength. Yet now that hid him with equal strength.

Revan had already been wearing full robes and a mask when he joined the Mandalorian Wars, and there had been no battle where he'd been wounded enough that it was removed. The Jedi had, for their own reasons that Canderous could only begin to suspect, removed all recorded videos and pictures of him from their archive.

He could always just suggest the possibility to Mars and see how the Sith took his accusation. But Mars had mastered lying; if he wanted to hide that he was Revan, for whatever reason, Mars would do so and he would be none the wiser.

Bastila wouldn't tell him, in fact she'd probably only see it as a threat that he suspected.

He would have to be sneaky, which was something that left a foul taste in his mouth. Hiding was not Canderous' way, but he would do it for this.

Just the thought that Revan was alive awoke something he hadn't felt since the start of the Jedi Civil War. Revan was a purpose, a reason, for all Mandalorians to continue onward as warriors. He'd slain the last Mandalore in honorable combat; he'd proven himself more worthy than the best of the Mandalorians. But he'd been killed before they could reorganize and Canderous had felt Revan's loss as keenly as he had felt Mandalore's.

If Mars was Revan, just _if_ it could be true, then Canderous had a purpose again. He had a duty to stand by Revan as he again ascended to glory – and Mars would, if he was Revan. The Mandalorians would rise from their ashes just as the Sith would.

And the galaxy would tremble in their wake.

* * *

Mars obviously knew exactly where he was going, Carth decided as the first time-worn pillars of a ruin came into view. "Bastila, how does Mars know this ruin so well? I thought only Revan and Malak had been here."

"That is true," Bastila replied. "Revan and Malak were the only Jedi to explore this ruin before us, but we have no way of knowing what they told their Sith followers about the ruin. Revan, at least, seems to have told them where it is and what some of the dangers are inside it, if I am interpreting Mars' actions correctly."

"How close was Mars to Revan anyway? I don't remember any Mars Almasy in the list of those in Revan's high chain of command. There was only Malak and his General – and I know the General was female."

Bastila shook her head. "I don't know where Mars fell in the hierarchy of the Sith. It is one of the things he's successfully hidden from us since his capture. I do know he was right there with Revan on the bridge of Revan's ship when we captured Revan." She paused as if thinking. "Though he always seemed too devoted to Revan to be a mere acolyte, and I do know that Revan always preferred the male gender over the female one." She shrugged, flippantly. "But I guess we'll only know when Mars decides to tell us."

Carth _stared_ at her. She'd said that so flippantly, so _casually_ that he didn't have a clue whether she'd been serious in that… _highly_ strange musing or not.

"If you're here to have a picnic for two," Mars' voice drawled loudly from up ahead, "then I could have suggested at least a _dozen_ places nearer to the Enclave."

"Come on." Bastila scowled, "Let's not keep him waiting."

* * *

The Force was still as strong inside the ruin as it had been when he and Malak had first come upon the Dark Side aura of the map the ruin hid inside.

A map to the Star Forge, a piece of the puzzle, hidden on worlds teeming with the Force so they could slowly rebuild themselves in the hopes someone—some Sith—would arrive and bring the ancient Sith Empire back to its former glory.

How the ancient Sith would weep to see a Jedi enter the ruin. How Revan wished he could let Bastila blunder to her death, as would any Jedi who tried to get the map. Yet he could not, and he must be careful not to give Bastila the information she hoped to glean from this.

Revan almost smiled as the overseer droid greeted them as they entered. It spoke the language of the ancient Sith, and Revan felt a twinge of nostalgia.

"Greetings human. You have returned again to this place, yet you bring a slave and an enemy with you. The slave is of no importance, but the enemy will not be allowed further."

"Do you recognize the language?" Bastila asked

Revan ignored her. "Greetings overseer." The ancient Sith language, a millennia of past power and conquest, rolled forth from his lips – harsh and guttural, more snarl and hiss than speak.

"You speak that?" Carth gasped.

"I do not willingly bring this enemy into this resting place of the Star Map. She will soon cease to be a threat, but for this to happen I must show her the map. As I have proven my self worthy long ago, I demand this from the Star Map."

"It shall be done," the droid spoke before falling silent.

"You wanted to see the Star Map, there it is." Revan pointed into the chamber ahead.

"A Star Map? Is that what Revan and Malak found here?" Bastila questioned.

"An incomplete Map," Revan intoned.

"A map to what?"

Revan was silent, his words stuck in his throat. Bastila could see the Star Map, she could go find its sibling maps on other worlds, but she could not know the purpose of the maps. He would not allow it.

"Mars!" The voice was threatening but Revan was unmoved.

"Bastila, why don't we look at the map first before you try and make him explain it," Carth's voice was laced with derision towards Revan, but Revan noted that Carth had seen his discomfort and _was_ trying to alleviate it – no matter what Carth was rationalizing his actions as.

He followed the two of them into the inner chamber of the ruin, listened as Bastila identified Korriban – and from Korriban – Tatooine, Kashyyyk, and Manaan. But that was all the map would tell her and she returned to him with her questions.

"What is this a map for, Mars?" Bastila demanded.

Revan remained silent.

"Tell me, Mars. Or do you really want to test the strength of this bond so much?" Her lightsaber was hefted and Revan winced. How pitiful, to be brought so low by a Jedi's threats.

"Maybe he doesn't know, Bastila," Carth interceded tentatively, "Perhaps Revan didn't tell him."

_How interesting that you still try to defend me, when it's obvious you don't like me, Carth, _Revan mused.

"Oh, he knows, Carth," Bastila glared at Revan. "Don't you? Do you doubt my resolve that much?"

"No," Revan answered, "Though you doubt the extent of my loyalty."

"The Sith have no loyalty," Bastila snapped.

"You have this Star Map," Revan gestured violently at the map behind her. "You know it's incomplete. You know where the other pieces are. When you've found them all, you'll have your complete map. You don't need me to explain _anything_."

"What is this a map for?" Bastila calmly demanded, lightsaber igniting. Reflected in its light in her eyes, Revan could see her determination. She really would kill herself.

"Malak's Star Forge." The words were dead and cold.

Bastila smiled triumphantly. "And what is this Star Forge?"

"The seed of his power, from which sprouts the tree of his empire. You ask me what Malak does; I know only what Revan did."

Bastila glared at him, but it was a hopeless glare. She did not know enough about the Star Forge to catch his lie. She sighed, turning off the lightsaber. "Then let us return to the Council and tell them what we found."

* * *

Crossing back through the grove, Bastila tensed and stopped suddenly, so suddenly in fact that Carth nearly walked into her.

"What is it?"

"The dark energy in this grove is centered right around here. We shouldn't have come back this way." Her gaze strayed to Mars, who stood by looking bored.

"So which Jedi messed up and embraced the Dark Side for the wrong reasons _this_ time?" he drawled.

"I will be your doom!" a voice yelled down from above them.

Red light flashed above Carth before he was pushed out of its way. The light arched down and around, toward Bastila. It clashed with yellow in an electrical hiss, as Bastila lit her lightsaber. Only then did Carth realize that the red light had also been a lightsaber, that he could only now see their attacker, and that Mars was sprawled out on top of him.

Mars, who had pushed him out of the way of the attack.

That thought lingered only a moment, as Mars was back on is feet in an instant. He seemed to have forgotten Carth entirely as he eyes the duel in front of them, a hungry, yearning look on his face.

Carth did not see the appeal. Bastila and the other Jedi – if she was even truly called a 'Jedi' anymore – were evenly matched, trading blows and parries at a speed faster than the eye could truly make out. The blades of their lightsabers looked like colored swirls of yellow and red, even though Carth knew how dangerous those 'colors' truly were. This was no lightshow; this was a duel where the slightest mistake could loose you a limb or your life. _Carth_ certainly didn't envy the two fighters their duel.

"It's over," Mars muttered.

Carth blinked. _What?_

But the red 'saber deactivated and Bastila's opponent dropped to the ground. Bastila also stilled, watching the other suspiciously as she also switched off her 'saber.

That Cathar, for Carth could now clearly see that the attacker was a Cathar female, looked up in surprise. "Why do you not finish it?"

"Why indeed?" Mars drawled. "Why kill a fallen Jedi?"

The Cathar turned a hateful glare at Mars. He merely smiled and nodded in return.

"Not bad, for a novice Sith or a recently fallen Jedi, but it's not nearly hateful enough to give you enough power to be a real threat. The Dark Side responds more to pure undiluted _loathing_ and _rage_, not this miasma of self-pity and sorrow that you're using."

The Cathar glared at Mars. "How _dare_ you tell me I am not worthy of being a Dark Jedi!"

"Oh, I dare," Mars replied as if he was commenting on the weather.

The Cathar bristled. "You have _no_ idea-"

"Try me."

"I killed my Master!"

Mars raised an eyebrow as if this were no strange occurrence. On the other side of the Cathar, Bastila was watching Mars intently, as if she was stuck between wanting to stop him and wanting to see what he said next.

"How?"

"I struck Master Quatra while training and killed her!"

"And you're upset about this?"

"Of course I'm upset! I _murdered_ her!"

Mars sighed. "Now here is your problem. You're _sorry_ you killed your master. You want her _forgiveness_. No true Sith would want that. A true Sith would revel in the glory of surpassing his master, no matter how he did it. Only a Jedi would seek atonement for such a thing. You were _training_; your master would have known the risk of injury and chose to take that risk. All masters open themselves to that the second they give their students lightsabers. You have been no Dark Jedi; you have been no Sith. You have merely been stupid. Go back to your Council, apprentice Jedi; you don't belong out here."

Mars turned and stalked off. The Cathar stared after him with a strange muted look of contemplation. Bastila, too, looked after Mars with a strange look on her face, but it was there only for an instant before her attention returned to the apprentice.

She placed a gentle hand on the other's shoulder. "I would not have said the same things he did, but I agree that you do not belong to the Dark Side."

"He is a Sith, isn't he?" the Cathar murmured.

Bastila nodded.

"I knew it. I could feel his scorn… his _hate_… in his words. I am nothing like him.

"Come then; we will take you home."

* * *

Canderous told himself that he was not going to wait for Mars when he left the Ebon Hawk. Being alone in the ship with only his thoughts about Revan for company was driving him stir crazy, that was all. Being in the Jedi Encalve was driving him stir crazy.

But, no matter what he told himself, he did wait until Mars showed up. Bastila and Carth had long since passed him with some other Jedi whom Canderous had never seen before, when Mars arrived, laden down with swoop bike parts.

Mars noticed him immediately, where Bastila had not an hour before. "Had enough of the Jedi for one day, Canderous?" he asked, his tone humorous.

"You're in a good mood," Canderous remarked, "What happened?"

Mars shrugged, "I bought the swoop bike parts I wanted. That's one less list to keep track of."

With the way he said that, Canderous had to wonder just how many mental lists Mars was keeping. He didn't offer to help carry the parts back to the ship, and Mars didn't ask him to. They fell into a companionable silence until they reached the garage of the Ebon Hawk.

"So what's on your mind?" Mars asked as he dropped the parts next to the swoop bike.

"What makes you think there's something on my mind?" Canderous asked.

"I'm a Sith, remember?"

Canderous snorted, but didn't respond to that statement. Whether Mars had actually used the Force or just guessed didn't matter, he was right. And now was a good enough time as any to bring up Revan. After all, he didn't know when he'd be alone with Mars again to ask.

"I want to know what you did during the Mandalorian Wars," Canderous started. "You were obviously there, and fought in a lot of the same battles I did, but you haven't said much about _your_ stories from the Wars. What position were you in the Republic army? What rank? What battle was _your_ triumph?"

Mars didn't respond. The silence stretched on into an incurable gap and Canderous wondered if he had pushed too far. Finally Mars moved, and picked up the chalk they'd used before to draw the Basilisk war droid. Deliberately, he turned and made sure Canderous was watching.

"Why do you want to know?" his voice was very, very, quiet as he held the chalk over the pilot's seat of the swoop bike.

"Because I have a guess," Canderous replied, "And if I'm right, it would mean a great deal to me."

Mars nodded and began to write slowly on the chair as he spoke. "I left for the Mandalorian Wars early, after Revan had begun recruiting Jedi to his army, but before most of them decided to go to war. When I arrived, I, and those with me, were only a little more than grunts because we were Jedi Padawans. By the time the Wars ended, I was a commander of a division in Muraki's third of the army – by then it was split between Revan, Malak, and Revan's General Muraki. Then, when Muraki went back to the Jedi, I was shifted to Revan's half. By the time he was betrayed, I was a lieutenant on his ship. That's all there is to tell, really."

He shrugged and dropped the chalk on the chair, soundlessly. He'd barely wiped off the chalk from his hands and turned so he was leaning against the speeder in a manner that Canderous was by now familiar with, before Bastila entered the garage. She seemed pleased about something and Canderous realized that she must have also been listening for Mars' answer as Mars fixed her with a petulant glare.

"Mars, the Council wants to see you."

Mars said nothing and followed her out, casting a meaningful glance back at the swoop bike and Canderous.

Canderous waited a few minutes before walking over to the swoop bike. Written on the seat were the words:

Revan Almasy, Admiral of the Republic Fleet

Canderous grinned as he obscured the words.

* * *

The Dantooine Jedi Council seemed not to have moved since the last time Revan had seen them. "What do you want?"

The Jedi Master in red snorted. "How he puts on airs."

"If you were me, you would have the skills needed to match that arrogance of yours." Revan grinned darkly at the man. This was that Jedi Master Muraki had spoken of… what was his name? Oh well, he'd think of it sooner or later. Whoever he was, he hadn't liked Muraki much.

And Revan had always watched over his General; something which had infuriated Malak to no end.

Revan forcefully cut off _that_ thread of thought. Now was not the time to be indulging in memories.

The Jedi Council had been talking to Bastila while Revan reminisced. _Probably about going after the Star Maps. How predictable of them, _Revan thought snidely.

"Those who have accompanied you from Taris will go with you," one of the Jedi Masters assured Bastila. "Juhani has also expressed a desire to accompany you."

The Jedi in red glared at Revan and spoke up as the other Council member finished. "You, too, will accompany Bastila."

Revan rolled his eyes skyward. "You dragged me all the way here to explain that? I would have thought that obvious." The Council bristled at his disrespect; only the little green Jedi Master seemed able to completely hold his calm connection to the Force. "If that's _all_ you have to say, send Bastila with a message next time – not a summons."

"Bastila is not your courier," Vrook—_that_ was his name!—snapped.

Revan's features melted into a look of surprise. "Oh, really? That's all she's good for, so I just assumed… " he trailed off as he swept from the Council chamber.

That had been one of his best retorts to a Jedi Master yet, Revan prided himself.

* * *

Revan had begun an earnest mental list of modifications to the Ebon Hawk, which were needed if he were to travel in the ship for a prolonged period of time, when Mission entered, bristling with anger.

"What's wrong?" he asked, loud enough to break through whatever it was Mission was muttering to herself. His features dropped from a look of contemplation to a look of concern, so earnest she couldn't possibly tell it was fake without a connection to the Force.

Mission's small surprise at there being someone else in the Ebon Hawk's main room was very short lived. "That – that… Cantina Rat!"

Revan guided her to the couch where he'd just been lounging. "Why don't you tell me about it." Soothing, placating. "Unless, of course, you'd rather not." Concerned. Utterly fake.

He crossed to the _very_ small liquor cabinet – item four on his list of things to fix on this ship! – and poured two glasses of Aderanian brandy. One he placed in Mission's clenched hands, before chugging the other and pouring himself a new glass. The haze of alcohol descended quickly. That was good. He couldn't continue pretending to be this concerned without some help.

Mission was staring at him as he returned to the couch and sat next to her. "This is alcoholic."

"Aderanian brandy," Revan agreed. "Good stuff, even if you're supposed to sip it." As a demonstration, he sipped his own.

"I'm underage," Mission replied flatly.

Revan forced a small thread of shock to travel across his features. It had to be small, or else she would know it was forced. "You're no child, Mission. A little brandy is soothing, which I thought would be good for this situation you appear to be in."

They were the magic words as Mission shot him a tearful grin before sipping tentatively at the brandy. Her eyes lit up. "This is good!"

"Most alcohol is. It's one of the reasons we drink it." Revan leaned back on the couch, eyes closed. "Except that Tarisian Ale… that had no character at all." He opened one eye. "Stick with me and I'll steer you towards the good stuff. A lady such as yourself shouldn't have to sift through the mediocre drinks."

Mission would have blushed had she been a human female, Revan was sure of it. Returning to a more contemplative position, he schooled his features into another expression. Serious concern this time. "So what is bothering you?"

Mission's face fell, and she took another sip of brandy before answering. "It's about my brother."

"I didn't know you had a brother." Soft tone, probing but not forceful.

"Griff was all I had. He… well I guess you couldn't he was the best of guys, but he always did right by me. He taught me how to pick a lock and how to sneak by a guard without being seen-"

"Very useful skills." Honesty. Revan had seen where those skills meant a life and death difference.

"Yeah! He got me to Taris and he raised me. He was always trying to find a way to get rich quick, but credits were hard to come by. Even so, he never stopped trying. Then he met Lena. She was a dancer at a cantina. Within a month she had Griff wrapped completely around her little finger! The last time I saw him, he was leaving Taris with _Lena_. Said that she didn't want me around, and that he would send for me when he got rich. I haven't seen him since."

Mission gulped at the brandy again. "But I saw _her_. Lena came up to me just outside. Said that Griff left her when her money ran out and that he was the one who didn't want me along. She's such a liar! I know my brother, he wouldn't do that!"

Revan placed a hand on Mission's shoulder. "Well, there are two possibilities here, Mission. Either your brother was lying, or Lena was lying. You'll have to ask Griff himself to find out the truth."

"Yeah, I know. Lena said the last time she saw him he was going to Tatooine, to work for Czerka. But I can't get to Tatooine."

As Mission looked down at her drink mournfully, Revan's lips curved into a sinful smile. "I'm sure you'll find a way Mission. And I'll help you."

Mission seemed to stiffen slightly, and Revan could tell she was reminding herself that she'd just spilled all her thoughts to a Sith. _Too late now, little Twi'lek,_ he thought, dark in intent even if his outside expression didn't show it.

"What can you do?"

"I'm a Sith. We have our ways." Revan nodded to the drink she held in her hands, as if in guilty conscience. "You keep quiet about me giving drinks to a minor, and I'll get you to Tatooine."

Mission smiled at him and finished her drink. She'd regret that quickness later, Revan mused to himself, if this _was_ her first real drink. "I'm not a kid. I know how to keep quiet."

"I'm sure you do, Mission." Revan purred. He was counting on it.

* * *

Revan had barely put away the two glasses when more steps sounded on the entrance ramp. Bastila entered, followed by that Cathar that he'd maneuvered away from the Dark Side of the Force. Juhani, he remembered she'd been referred to.

"Mars. I want to speak with you." Bastila's tone was imperious. Obviously she'd forgotten that she wasn't really in control of anything. Pity. Though, Revan had to admit, she was good at that. It could have served her well as a Sith, but as a Jedi it was just annoying.

Revan peeled himself off the couch, giving Mission's hand a squeeze as he brushed by her. Outwardly, she gave no indication that he'd done anything. The kid would be perfect, he thought to himself in satisfaction, even if he wasn't exactly sure how he would use her yet.

Bastila headed again for the dormitory where she'd spoken to him only a few days earlier when he'd been discussing the Mandalorian Wars with Canderous. The look on her face was not very different from what it had been then. She obviously had something she wanted to say. Pity. He didn't feel like listening.

"I want to set the rules of this relationship," Bastila stated immediately as Revan closed the door behind him.

His face immediately took on a disgusted look. "Not my type, Jedi. Take that up with Canderous if you want to-"

"Not-" Bastila's face took on an interesting shade of red. "-not like _that_! I _meant_ the terms of our _working_ together to locate these Star Maps."

Revan leaned against the door. "Talk then. I have no choice but to listen."

"Look-" a sigh, "Fine, just let me be frank with you. Malak needs to be stopped. Whether it's the Jedi who stop him because he's trying to destroy the Republic or whether you kill him for your own personal gain – he's a menace and a threat. If you have some way of dealing with that threat _now_, then you should speak up and let us work on it. But since you don't know where he is and you don't know where his stronghold is, or at least won't tell me, then the only lead we have are these Star Maps. So _I_ am going to go find them and, because you want to make sure that I'm not killed in the process, you'll come with me. You attack me, and it's all over. I won't try stopping you again so you'll have to deal with the chance of your own fatality. Another thing: I will not allow you to hurt the crew."

"And what do I get in return? Other then knowing that my life is secured since you won't kill yourself?"

Bastila frowned. "Well… I – the Jedi council doesn't want me to do this, but I'm prepared to give you your lightsaber back. And take off the inhibitor."

Revan's smile was both feral and gleeful.

"But the rules still apply, and I count using any of your dark Force powers on the crew as harming them. No lightning, no choke hold, no persuasion, nothing!"

"Very well. Give me my toys but don't let me play with them. I see."

"Also, you _cannot_ tell the crew members who you are. That's _very_ important."

"What? Afraid of what they might do if they knew they had a Dark Lord of the Sith on their ship with them?"

"The less they know, the safer they are if they are captured and interrogated."

Revan scoffed. "Malak won't care if they really know something or not. He'll torture them until they die, once he knows I'm alive – just for sport because they traveled with me."

"Be that… as it may. It is still safest for them if they know as little as possible. We can't stop them from guessing on their own, but we can keep suspicion to a minimum if they just think you're a Sith and nothing more. So no tales of you growing up, and no tales of the Mandalorian Wars -"

"I'll talk about the Mandalorian Wars if I want to," Revan hissed.

"Fine, fine – talk about the Wars if you have to. But make sure that you do so in a way that they will not suspect who you are!"

"Fine. It's a deal then."

"I want your word."

"What worth can the word of a Sith Lord possibly have?"

"It means something to me. And I give you my word that if you break any rules we have talked about here, then we will find out exactly how _connected_ our lives are."

Revan stared down at her and resolutely held out the wrist on which lay the sparking inhibitor. "You have the word of Darth Revan, Dark Lord of the Sith. Now get this off me."

"Very well." Bastila thumbed the side of the bracelet. There was a little click, and it fell to the floor.

Revan arched back away from her with a groan of pleasure, one hand going to grasp where the bracelet had been.

"Force, that feels _so_ good," he sighed as he fell sideways and collapsed on the nearest bunk.

Bastila edged slowly around him and opened the door. Casting one look back at him, she couldn't help smiling at the look of ecstasy on his face. With his eyes closed like that, he could have easily been a Padawan in training who had just mastered a new skill in the Force.

She shook herself and continued out the door. "I'll give you your lightsaber back later." As she closed the door behind her, she wasn't sure if he'd really heard her; he'd been so wrapped up in the Force she doubted he heard anything.

* * *

Revan emerged from the dormitory like a prisoner being released from prison. His first thought was to lock himself in the cargo hold for at least a week and bask in the beauty of the Dark Side, but its sinful whispers told him that everyone was gathered in the main room of the Ebon Hawk. He mentally waved away the whispers of how easy this proximity made killing them, even though he admitted ruefully that - as always - the Dark Side was absolutely right.

_Everyone_ stiffened as he sauntered into the room. Ah, he'd missed that reaction. The feeling of the Dark Side suddenly blooming into an oppressive miasma around those near him, seeing even those not sensitive to the Force know that _something_ was going on.

The Cathar – Juhani, he reminded himself again – turned accusingly to Bastila. "You removed the Force inhibitor! The Council said not to!"

"The Council gave me permission to do so if the situation warranted it. They did not leave me any directions as to what kind of situation would warrant it's removal. Therefore, I used my judgment."

"I hope you know what you are doing," Juhani murmured.

Revan flopped gracefully next to Mission, purposefully ignoring the space next to Carth. "So what were you discussing that has everyone so tense?" he purred.

Bastila waved her hand at a projection of the four planets on which there were Star Maps. "We are trying to decide which path to take." Before Revan could take a breath to speak, she added, "We are _not_ going to Korriban yet."

"There is a large Republic presence on Manaan," Juhani pointed out. "It will probably be easiest to find the Star Map there."

"You forget the large Sith presence on Manaan," Carth objected. "We'll have to be even more careful there that word doesn't get to Malak of what we're doing."

"Carth has a point," Bastila conceded.

Revan caught Mission staring at Tatooine out of the corner of his eye. He felt the smile he refused to allow on his face blossom in his mind as the Dark Side purred its agreement. "How about Tatooine first?"

Bastila was immediately suspicious about _something_, he knew, as Mission sat straighter beside him, and he felt hope bloom within her through the Force.

"It's out of the way of both the Sith and the Republic. No one cares to question others as long as you stay out of their way." He shrugged. "It seems the planet that would be the least complicated to deal with."

Bastila's eyes narrowed, feeling the subtle pulse of Force persuade behind his words. He couldn't help it – it was more than a habit by now. "Why do you really want to go to Tatooine?"

He gave Mission a slow wink, and the Twi'lek hid a smile. Bastila watched the exchange warily. "I have pressing business there, you might say," Revan smiled beatifically at the Jedi.

"Then I don't think-" Bastila started but Canderous cut her off.

"You're just upset you didn't think of it first. All of the planets have advantages and disadvantages. Mars is right; Tatooine has the most advantages at this point."

Revan felt Bastila searching for the effects of Force Persuade on Canderous. _Keep looking, Jedi,_ he goaded, _you'll find nothing. Canderous is helping me of his own will._

Bastila deflated when she realized that Canderous wasn't backing Revan by Revan's will, but by his own. In fact, as she perused the minds of her companions with the Force, the small pulse of Force Persuade had only been directed at her.

She turned to Carth, who was studying the planets carefully. "I would say that Korriban and Manaan will be the most challenging, from what I know right now." Carth stated. "Either Tatooine or Kashyyyk would be better to start with."

Zaalbar's input came unexpectedly to Bastila. "Tatooine would be safer than Kashyyyk," he growled softly. Again, there were no traces of the Force used to prompt him to say such, though Bastila immediately wondered what he knew to make him say that.

"Very well, then we go to Tatooine."

Bastila could feel Revan's triumph through the Force, and she had expected that. But she had not expected Mission to be so happy. She would have to talk to Mission later.

Carth nodded and walked toward the cockpit, presumably to set their course. There was no reason for them to stay on Dantooine any longer.

Revan watched him go as the Dark Side informed him that everyone leaving to prepare for the jump to hyperspace. Surely, it added, there was some time for a bit of fun before then.

Yes, there was.

He waited until Bastila followed Mission out of the room before he crept after Carth.

* * *

"Mission, can I talk to you?"

"Sure, Bastila. What's up?"

Bastila wasn't sure how to proceed. Of course she couldn't come out and say that she thought there was something up between Mission and Mars. Mission was a good girl – young and inexperienced, but good – she wouldn't willingly plan anything with Revan. Revan had to be maneuvering her into a position so he could use her.

"I noticed you were happy to be going to Tatooine. Do you mind telling me why?"

"My brother's on Tatooine. I wanted to see him again."

Oh, that was all. Bastila felt relief like a cold water bath. "Oh, I'm sorry to pry then. Of course you can see your brother while we're on Tatooine, Mission."

But something tugged at her perception as she felt a spark of annoyance from Mission. So at the doorway she turned, "Did you plan to do something with Mars?"

"He's going to take me to see my brother." Mission's statement was firm, and unlike how she'd previously talked to Bastila. _Revan _did_ do something,_ Bastila thought.

She'd have to try and stop whatever Revan was planning to do with Mission. "Be careful, Mission. Remember that Mars is a Sith."

"I know, Bastila," Mission said frostily. "He seemed genuinely interested in making me feel better, so I talked with him. You might want to try doing that too, he's much more understanding when you don't try to order him around."

Bastila knew when she had to retreat for the moment, and this was one of those times. Revan had done something, somehow gotten Mission to forget how bad the Sith were. She would have to make sure Mission was reminded of that, but she was unsure how to do so. As she left Mission, she decided she would talk to Juhani. Perhaps they could come up with something.

As Mission fell into the bunk she'd claimed as _hers_, she glared at the spot where Bastila had been. Giving her permission to see her brother. Mission hadn't asked for that. Perhaps Mars was right about some things. Sure, the Sith weren't good. They'd destroyed Taris. They'd probably done even worse things. She'd _seen_ Mars walk into the Ebon Hawk carrying a dead Mandalorian's head! But he seemed to really want to help her.

_Maybe Sith were like real people,_ she thought as she lay back and prepared for the kick into hyperspace. _They care about some things and don't care about others. They just have a more violent – and wrong – way of showing when they don't care._ She would have to think more on it, she knew, but right now Mars had promised to get her to Tatooine and he had done just that.

* * *

Carth hadn't expected anyone to follow him into the cockpit, and if someone did, he would have guessed it would be Bastila. But the red eyes which had been following his movements as he'd guided the Hawk off Dantooine and prepared for the jump to hyperspace were not Bastila's eyes. And the body they belonged to was draped over the co-pilot's chair in a way that Bastila would never sit.

Mars was decidedly not Bastila. Where Bastila would have realized Carth didn't feel like talking to her – had she been in Mars' place – Mars either didn't realize it or didn't care. Carth bet on the latter.

"Strange that you didn't request a new assignment from the Republic."

Carth shot him a look as if to say, 'Why do you care?'

"Surely there are other things that the Republic needs you for."

"Defeating Malak is the most important thing the Republic needs right now." Straight, to the fact. Perhaps if he satisfied whatever strange curiosity Mars was feeling, Mars would go away. "I was given orders to assist Bastila in whatever way I can. Right now the Jedi have the best chance of defeating Malak."

The transition into hyperspace was a bit more vicious than Carth would have normally flown, but it felt like a good accent to his statement, nevertheless.

Mars uncoiled from the chair in the manner of a reptile. "You really don't enjoy having me around, do you?" His tone was playful, chiding, as if he knew the answer and yet asked it anyway.

"I don't like Sith."

"Well, see that's a problem Carth," the sinful, sinuous voice purred in his ears. "Because I seem to like you a lot. And it would be such a shame if my feelings were unrequited."

Carth bristled, preparing to tell that _Sith_ exactly what he thought about those feelings of his, when he found himself pushed back against the navigational map, Mars' sinful smile too close for comfort.

"Even Sith don't get what they want all the time," he growled.

Mars didn't respond right away, choosing instead to lean closer to him. "That's a strange notion. Especially since that's why so many join the Sith. They come seeking something which they wish they had. They learn very quickly that if they want something, it has to be taken."

And Mars crushed his lips to Carth's. As Carth struggled to throw him off, he realized absently that Mars seemed to find this a rather playful action, nipping at Carth's lower lip and pressing him firmly back against the map.

"Mars Almasy!"

Carth nearly sighed with relief at hearing Bastila's outraged voice. He couldn't actually sigh, considering Mars _still_ hadn't detached himself from his mouth, but it was still a near thing.

_Slowly_ – too slowly in Carth's mind – Mars pulled away, and turned to face Bastila with a rather petulant look on his face. "What? You said no Force powers and not to harm the crew." His smile was flippant. "See? No Force powers and he's not hurt. So leave me alone."

"What about _psychological_ harm, Mars?" Bastila's voice seemed to reach new octaves when she was this disturbed.

Mars seemed to pause to think. "Hmm… Nope. You didn't say anything about psychological harm. Just that I couldn't use Force Persuade. Which I didn't."

"Don't twist my words, Mars. You knew I wouldn't approve and you did it anyway!"

Mars blinked. "I've never cared for your approval."

"When I hold both of our lives in my hands, you should care!"

Mars shrugged, slowly peeling himself completely off Carth. "Which only means I'll have to time things better, dear Bastila. That's all."

Carth sank weekly into the pilot's chair as Bastila watched Mars saunter down the corridor.

"I'm sorry about that," Bastila said quietly. "I should have figured he'd try something to unravel me."

Carth didn't know if he should be insulted that it had just been implied that Mars had made advances on him only to make _Bastila_ unsettled. The uncertainty didn't surprise him. He didn't know what to think of Mars anymore, much less Mars' actions.

The only thing he seemed to be able to think, as he watched the stars streak by, was Bastila's statement from before about Mars and Revan – about how close they could have been.

_to be continued_


End file.
